The Angels Cry
Dark the shadow, moving among us as a thief,
Deftly slipping its thin, spiny fingers
Deep into those hearts not yet strong
Tugging almost effortlessly at the soul within
That knows not, the light, the bright salvation.
For only a small step towards the shining star
Would summon the angels to battle,
Fierce, cunning, strong, they fly to their call.
But, alas, though a small step, a deep, endless chasm
For one so lost, so tortured...so alone.
The others watch yet do nothing to stop
The growing vastness of nothing,
Suckling all life, all hope from where it feeds
So simply, with hardly a protest or fight, not even a whimper;
Only abandon and sadness, regret and loss.
Yet in the distance a soft and gentle song trumpets in the wind,
Calling back the lost and weary souls forgotten,
Calling them all back, aching for their pains and sorrows,
Offering a choice if only they would hear.
Closer and brighter, chasing shadow back into the night.
The endless battle surely bringing victory to one
Yet, we watch and do nothing, and the angels cry out
Their frustrations and despair, and with prayers that man will take
That step of faith, opening their hearts as all who hunger for the light,
May find salvation and end the nothingness that grows.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
