ONE WINTER MORNING WE MEET

THE ANGEL.  By chance.  Or by design.  Her

gaze is cast down, her plumage unfurled.  She speaks of love,

mobility, power.  Imperious in her grace, she resembles us.  A spirit

made of flesh, this messenger has passed from heaven to earth--where

she remains.  With us, among us.  Her back, her unprotected part,

speaks mutely of damage.  Like us, she has known gravity and pain. 

She is air become stone become woman, her flights sequential

transits, transformations.  She bears a blessing.  She is the body of

love transfigured in the world, not beyond it.  In the cold graveyard,

where other wings enfold eons of sleep, her feathers (fetters?) lift,

open.  We turn, she casts her soul into the air.

The Inspiration:

Gena Foucek Sinopoli's series of angel photographs inspired Carolyn Burke's prose poem, "One winter morning we meet/ The angel." Seen as a group, these messengers of love bring to mind their counterparts in Wim Wenders' classic film Wings of Desire--the spirits that move among us unseen, often prompting unexpected meetings of minds.