With darkness surrounding us, love, we hold
one another like life preservers, drift
in ebony air as angels must, bold
as angels in our blessed mission. Now lift
each other, weightless in our altered state,
with such fragile care you’d think we’d shatter
if dropped or grasped with slightest force. We wait,
feel each other’s breathing. Does it matter
how, years before, we warped treasured senses,
tossing each other’s hearts in damp dungeons
only to watch our spirits escape? Yes.
Actions define our continuum. Once
we’ve returned, clawed, starved as our bodies are,
we see why angels once fought a great war.
Roger Armbrust
January 12, 2010
