My Messenger
God's messengers can and cannot be seen.
She came in human form as my best friend.
No wings or halo yet beyond serene.
Making heaven real as hell views its end.
Her violin string hair - frail as her heart.
Each word she chants to souls is a soft hymn.
Movements from silk and lace that create art.
The essence of sandalwood seems to skim.
The tiny yet gentle hands have healed me.
Earth's piercing scream won't poison her whisper.
Whisps of her feathery skin feels so free.
Human contamination will wither.
Nightmares are revived inside a daydream.
A sacred being in a mortal's cloak.
Our amity is as still as a stream.
Lord, could I equal her if I awoke?
~
8/11/18
Contest: NEW RHYMING POEMS on Angels
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
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