I found an angel in the street one day,
Sitting within a cardboard strewn doorway,
His partly gloved hand wrapped
around a styrofoam cup of borrowed warmth.
I fumbled in my pocket for loose change,
Too guilty of my life to walk past
As others seemed to do,
And as the coins fell around his booted feet,
He lifted his eyes to mine
And I saw the truth.
Only now did I see the swell
Of folded wings,
tucked beneath the remnants
Of a once fine coat.
Saw the light of captured stars
And the circling of worlds within his eyes.
And when he gifted me a smile,
I saw the innocence of a new born child
And I feared for him.
I held out my hand,
Lifted him from the discarded
traces of other lives.
And I led him from that place.
His hand cold in mine,
without life, yet denying death.
I took him to my home,
And in silent days to pass,
He became part of my life.
I watched the transparent look of wonder,
As he flicked the channels on TV.
A carousel of emotions,
As false lives flashed before him.
And then he stopped,
His finger paused on the button
His eyes fixed upon the news channel.
And he seemed to know that this was real.
Everyday scenes of canvas wrapped bodies,
In places too distant to warrant
A glance up from the pages of my magazine.
But the tears soaked his cheeks.
And he felt their grief,
His innocence dying as the credits rolled.
I woke up this morning
And I knew he was gone.
The television flickered,
Grainy news of distant pain.
And for the first time I opened my eyes.
Running outside, I called his name,
But this world was not for him.
And there, lying upon my pillow
Was a single red rose
And the broken pieces of an angelís heart.