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IF I MAY ACCESS MY GUARDIAN ANGEL

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Below is the poem entitled IF I MAY ACCESS MY GUARDIAN ANGEL which was written by poet Ajayi Angel-Simon. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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IF I MAY ACCESS MY GUARDIAN ANGEL

IF I MAY ACCESS MY GUARDIAN ANGEL When the spirits of the dead wail as violently as dust storm, The concerto of mortal tranquility is at stake— From the rivers of Niger To the brooks of Cherith; From the coast of Rio de janeiro To the hinterland of Syria; From the desert of Sudan To the walls of China; From the cape of Nile To the caves in Somalia; From the palace in Buckingham To the empires in Rome; From the town of Nairobi To the villages in Kangan; From the springs of Arab To the wilderness of Lalaland; From the city of Boston To the highways of Riyadh; And every Waste Land on earth; Contralto has turned bass… Nyanya could not dance kukere What guardian angel are assigned to Those that perish as frail as dust? What edge is built around Those that burn in the fiery furnace of Nebuchadnezzars? What weapon do they wield on field to shield Those unarmored lambs? I hear musical tones Of bullets and splinters In howling harmony With the crescendo Of the wounded. What form do they bear that guard as Angels? What mask do they wear that kill as rebels? What course do they chart; What counsel do they heed; What pleasure do they take In treating Creator’s breath as toot? What communion do they hold; What vigil do they keep; What banquet do they feast That shed blood like pool of water? What robe do they wear; What horse do they ride; What ocean do they wish to part With their serpentine rod stinging the innocent? If I may access my guardian angel, I’ll ask him these questions And plead that he guard me from— Stray bullets Boko bombs Toxic potions Plain crash from hair craft Ballot bullies Mortal cherubs Choking smog Chemical weapons Six sick seeks! I’ll tell him, Oh Celestial Guard! If you thirst, don’t drink spirits; If you hunger, don’t eat bhang-leaves, For if you sleep or slumber, I may perish as frail dust. I’ll tell him to fortify himself with ethereal amour; I dread these times Where Angels may perish with those they guard; I dread these times Where mortals ascend to immortal places To build their fort With ruins from the rock of ages Ajayi Angel-Simon 2013

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