The Afterlife of Angels

      Except as they’re portrayed in fairy tales, feather-

weighted, with a magic wand,

                                                or in religious paintings, 

their inwardness upon them, scattering blessings

like flower petals,

                              or fitted in armor with a flaming sword,

I’ve never understood what angels could possibly 

do for us,

                or what they could possibly want.

Having no personalities, even friendship seems alien 

to their nature. Like the soul,

                                                they’re part of our 

spiritual climate, yet the mystic Birgitta of Sweden’s 

revelation,

             If we saw an angel, we should die of pleasure,

requires a small dose of fantasy.

      Which is not to say

that angels don’t walk among us from time to time, rising

into sunlight

                   from the subway stairs, or standing in a doorway, 

trying to stay warm, rearranging their wings

like swans and sparrows do.

                                    So, what are we 

                        to make of them in

                                     our terrestrial world?

An angel with no powers of consolation? No need for poetic 

or religious explanation?

                                        A stranger not so strange at all, 

or strange in a way that almost seems familiar?

Best, perhaps (soul not-

                                          withstanding) to break God’s hold 

and leave them to their afterlives?