RILKE'S ANGELS
The angels are terrifying
too close are they to perfection?
when immediately inrushing
come evil demons of destruction
A play of cosmic force
confusing and desperate
life’s continual unfulfilled course
until God is reached as non-separate
The angel followed by its mirror face
Is in its appearance to man
So when its beauty flows out in space
An empty sadness sucks up all it can
Angels seen at other times
As deadly birds of the soul
Confusing views confusing rhymes
Others sometimes hopeful bold and whole
Lacking understanding
Incapable of love or compassion
Self- enthralled lacking in relating
How is this perfection, it’s narcissism?
Projection of Rilke’s isolation and despair
Depression and loneliness
Incompleteness, lack of empathy, of care
A world of sadness and transientness
Rilke’s angels give me no peace
They are no angels at all
They are empty ghosts of self-containment
Looking out and offering nothing
I would not call on them
While crying or singing
Nor depend on them for anything
They are useless views out of desperation
Silent nothings in space concoctions of despair
Wishes for something
Where there is nothing from where to wish
I close them off to everything sacred
The name of angel is blasphemous
They hold nothing of holiness or peace
They are as empty as a hollow wooden doll
Plastic wrapped in cheap oriental paper
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