It's been a long time since I cried.
But I have an excuse.
I remember crying after Mom died.
But I was only twenty.
I remember crying after Dad died.
But I was only 30.
I remember crying when I met my first Angel.
And I cry now remembering my second.
Last August, an Angel contacted me.
We kept in touch through our e-mails.
Writing poetry to each other.
Astonished at who the other was.
I saved those messages
Because I knew God was speaking through her.
Not often you get to receive His Word personally
Less often with a date and subject line.
The Angel and I soon realized
That our heaven on earth was unlikely
Because of distance and travel
And that we would have to meet in another life.
What good what it have done
If we were to have joined forces,
Even if she was one of perhaps three
To know how I color my world?
Early on she wrote,
"C'est formidable ce que tu ecris!
J'adore ton poeme, qui reveille mon ame"
To which humbly I had to agree.
Later I wrote the Angel,
"Together we already have gotten glimpses of God
And shared in the wonders of the Unknown,"
To which she asked, Are you a real person?
I think now that I am
But really not all that sure.
"Who am I and why am I here?"
Is all that comes to mind.
I've always thought that none of this is real,
Just a playground for learning to build sandcastles.
But no sense in having a sandbox
If nobody's going to play in it.
Last night, I unlocked the door
To the storage basement of memories.
Just a bunch of dusty old furniture
That once I polished with my emotions.
There were some people in there, too,
And they came up to me to talk.
I didn't have much to say to them
So they went back into the dark corner.
My angel wrote me later,
"I close my eyes, and hear somewhere
a so melodious music.
Is that your breath?"
This was so scary I almost became sick.
I hit the reply button:
"I hear the piercing beauty of a single purple note
Of you across the universe yet here now.
Your soul transformed
Your cells vibrating in unison."
For the Angel knew I spoke literally.
Before the Angel flew on, she asked,
"Teach me how to carry myself on
Under the power of your words,"
When she was already teaching me.
It's a lonely world inside this head
And even worse deep in my heart.
Once a fort year I meet an Angel
For a fortnight then we do part.