Guardian gone
(For Rilke’s angels)
I have lost my angel
I felt him there when I was young,
guardian of mine — comforting one…
of an evening as my head rested on the pillow,
nostrils inhaling the sunshine
the cotton had captured,
I would feel the tips of wings touch,
softer than a baby’s first thought,
my forehead, I recalled the ocean
smoothing sand each time it ventured forth…
then back, then forth again.
He once walked beside me,
present as a stick held in the hand
or a school bag slung across a shoulder,
accepted and never consulted,
a weight that lifted hours and words,
helped me walk away home
and reminded me to return.
I cannot pinpoint the time
or the place
he was mislaid, only that
one morning I discovered him no longer…
when I considered the absence, I realized
it had been so for many days.
Winter arrives with the herald Dearth
trumpeting silence and
the sun’s growing distance…
no matter how often I stare at my remote reflection
he will not return,
cannot
he would no longer recognize me
even if he was looking.
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