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Poem	(from a painting by hugo simberg) those who bear the wounded angel are they honoured or destroyed far beyond their comprehension are the warfares of the void angels have a sheen to lift them well above the bloody battles human beings give their hurts to divines don't need such tittle-tattles yet this angel has been wounded here on earth its presence is two young boys (the stretcher bearers) are flung immensely into crisis where to take a wounded angel wait till we can tell our friends is this something one is dreaming - both are terrified of ends are we martyrs heroes villains should we drop the thing and run will we be decorated or scolded - something new beneath the sun weightless stretcher far too heavy sweating fingers burn like ice legs revolve in all directions thoughts race into paralysis ahead the village breathes as normal innocent of the eternal bloom about to bleed its hope-fear petals into each mortal living room
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