Angel Speak, by Jennifer Angelina Petro

Angel Speak

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

Every night, a friend

Comes to talk with me,

Carrying word of faraway

And intimately near places.

Sometimes she talks,

Animatedly, with an urgency

Known only to those with important news,

Sometimes she talks

In gently bobbing waves of psychedelia,

Which carry me on their drifting

Clouds to the shores of morning.

Sometimes she chases me

Without a word—just pursuing me

As if I were quarry, sometimes

She drops me, plunging me

Into the day, sweating and panicked.

Even when she appears sinister,

I have come to know she simply wants

To send messages from the soul.

 

And every morning, I wake

And forget everything

She said.  Well, some of it

Lingers for a few moments, like

The scent of honeysuckle in spring;

But eventually, as I dress,

And rustle papers and books,

It fades, or lifts, or blows,

Or flies, or runs

Away.

 

I think sometimes

What if she ached to be known,

To be heard, to be validated, seen?

 

What if she simply wanted

To be there, like

An angel by the riverside.

 

Indeed, what if

All dreams were flocks of angels

Forming grand gestures and landscapes

Of secrets intent on revelation?

 

What if she was trying

To tell me she needed help

Or that the spiritual world

Was in trouble?

 

What if she was trying to tell me

That it’s time, as I sleep

Through my day,

To wake up and start singing?

 

 


 

 

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