Linda Smith Poet I do not know?

Voices That Pray

I hear the call go out.
A call for need,
to return from above.
Delivered from the mass of metal.
A twisted scene of death.
No fear is seen, he returns to pain.
I pray for ten, two, five.
I hear the angels in the night.
Silently, I hear the voices pray.

I see the light, bright and red,
Oozing life from his head.
They say on scene, he was dead.
Out from the dark, they come,
Ready for work, miracles desired.

He rolls in, angels all about.
They move on three.
Swiftly, silently, they be.
I hear the voices pray.

The first comes to aid with growls and shouts.
They call the bird, fast and sleek.
The maintain, he holds fast.
Wings poised for flight.
Silently, the voices pray.

Fifteen long minutes they work,
Waiting for the fowl.
In the thunderous noise,
A small sigh escapes.
Maybe today, the answers will come.
Silently, I hear the voices pray.

Out the door, tears are shed.
In the bowels he slides,
His wings move the dust.
Silently, the voices pray.
Another did not fly today.

♡Like0

Share Poem

---

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