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Artwork by angelghidora

Sally forth and Jesse back, says Raphael,

the comic healer of the angelos, and when

the talk shows signs of slow decline, fear not

the Sandalphon whose epinastic silence veers

through seas of light, Elijah’s beggar rags

and shepherd’s robes to call in Uriel, consoling

glow within the heart of darkness, comrades to

the loving and reproachful pair of Gabriel, the

lunar dark, and Michael, swordsman, solar

fair, who is like God, he asks, and

bids us answer:  Here, I am!


The left and right, above, below

through Metatron’s supremacy breathe into

us the loving grace of Shekhinah, the ark,

the covenant, her presence and the promises

prepare us well through Sybillines and chronicles

for wakenings too bright to see until illuminosity

herself rolls back the stone upon the tomb, a

scrap of cloth within the emptiness enough

for us to know beyond a doubt

the mystery of our kinship

with the angelos.


© Elaine Stirling, 2012