I thought I saw an angel once, the air
alive with the beating of ethereal wings
whispers of a world yet to be born out
of the dustbins and doubt of our own.
Given by God, or astronomical event—
it doesn’t matter: I saw hope. I saw
courage in the face of despair, help
in the face of cruelty, generosity
of spirit in the face of greed: and I
believed in it. The beating of those
wings was close enough to hear, close
enough to taste, close enough to trust.
Like remembering the words of a
long-forgotten song, not knowing that,
all along, those words would be the only
hope of reconnecting to the world.
I once thought I saw an angel.
But in the end it was only a ghost.