Poem 8: The Angel Flies to Heaven – after “The Composer Sheds Her Sheet Music” by Z.G. Tomazewski

She sheds her tears and rises, wings fully developed-

stepping away from the shriveled, cracked, and dry cocoon

to the edge of the canyon rim, beneath which the river rages-

she leaps, and flies-

 

Her wings buckle in midair, her body bends over,

but something in her heart leaps-

her body lifts-

 

Grey clouds loom above through which the sun shines dimly,

releasing a silver mist that blends with the wind-

snowy white pigeons lift from the rocks- the wind

carries their wings in flight-

 

Light soaks the reddened canyon walls-

the breeze whirls from each pump of the wings-

crisp air- the angel’s plumage of white feathers-

 

The clouds parted the sky-

the tangled froth of the river vanished,

the canyon beneath descends away-

with each wingbeat the heart thrums-

 

Her hands stretch to catch the skies releasing water-

a rain arrives to signal the coming of Autumn

washing away the dust

from the birds’ shallow beaks-

 

Clouds envelop us-

the wind sings and whistles its music,

carrying with its breeze the leaves-

and as she flies, she lets go-

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