Tonight I called upon Raphael.
I'm not even a Catholic.
Lend me your healing wings tonight, O Raphael!
I felt no brush, no flutter; only the kind of cold when you lose faith again.
I took it as a sign to step into the icy rain.
I hoped it would shock me awake from my bad dream;
but, alas, I was not sleeping.
As the small shards of ice sliced into my bare back,
I realized I had done the foolhardy thing
of leaving my armor at home.
(c) 2018 / Frank LaRue Owen / purelandpoetry.com