Sunday, September 14, 2008
What the Angel Said (poem)
What the Angel Said
At first it was relief.
At no longer having
that encumbrance of flesh,
the heavy weight pulling me down
into a kind of half-being.
How it was then,
I could not move
without such effort,
could not leave
the curved surface
of which I was a part.
Oh, I tried, but it was useless.
A few feet of elevation at best,
always the necessary slow progression
to a new location.
Sometimes I wept at my immobility.
Or strained to leave,
useless gesture.
Now, finally, I am free,
flitting from place to place
like a bee among roses,
an eagle soaring.
To think about a destination
is to arrive there,
to desire a shape
is to find oneself
remolded.
A flowing pulsation of gold veined light,
I wander among the remnants,
barely making out
the world I left behind.
I am glad I abandoned
all that uneasy furor,
that chaos of misdirected aims.
Yet sometimes I watch
and wonder
which is the better portion,
they with
their learning school
of grief and ambitions,
me with my smooth excess of love.
Dorothy Walters
September 11, 2008
(Image from Wikipedia of work by Gustave Dore)
