Tonight I called upon Raphael.

I'm not even a Catholic.

Raphael! Raphael!

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

sound: Roy Mattson / Melancholy Moon

 

 

 

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