The Wounded Angel* Poem by Joseph S. Josephides

Before I define what prevails, justice or wisdom,
or how the one burns, how the other refreshes,
I ask the angel if he prefers: love, faith or hope.

The angel is a child heavily wounded in the war
and two sad children carry him on a stretcher
to the rock-built church of Templiokio*, I gaze
the President bowing (perhaps she is praying)
to spread the flag over his wounded short body,

(the folks outside wonder why the flag is absent,
if the President sold it at the antique market place,
if she is wagging it at rallying, in a technology park,
a beer festival or during discounts of sandals-skiing
or reindeer horns, while seagulls grab ice creams)

here, in the chapel Madonna of rocks stands still
urging my mom to play harmonium for souls, look
the angel raises his bloodied body and voices out:
'My God, I condemn the killers of my life and of life',
suddenly the love shivers, the whole rock cracks,
instilling myrrh in the air, over the body of the boy,
the flag over him starts to wave and stir as a lake
and then the angel opens up his wings and floats
erasing the darkness, namely the absence of light.

At last he beckons me to fight with faith for love
the only hope that really heals every wound, for
ahead of justice or wisdom, love is the savior.


© JosephJosephides