On the Angel's bench
The way you wing up
flaring out two wingspans
rising. On this hard bench
you bid me stay, stay, stay.
But my stoney angel
I am stonewalling you
I am a wall of angry sorrow
for children lost, lost, lost.
I would stay
bricked in , bricked up
but you, agile as air
drop wings to bend low
in one sweep remove
a stone . A finger width
gap clears and water
trickles as life does.
I watch this opening.
A weight of grace dammed
up behind seeps through:
I can leave the bench for now.
POET
Viv Stacey
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