Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Quietly An Angel Comes


Indoors, the wounded are bare and bloodied,
With cold hands...she washes away the blood
Beyond the perimeter of her skill, she binds them
Witnessing the full force of hatred and violence!
An Angelic face stares blankly, silence prevails
His mind like tectonic plates, create a wall of tears
Outside; an alien land, choking on the smell of battle
smoke billows through a yellow sun, of a spring day.
Inside; the curtains rustle and the Angel
is spirited away, to another soldiers cry.


- David Williams

(David Williams is a retired driving instructor and a part-time poet living in the North West of England. Quietly An Angel Comes is David Williams' third contribution to the Bar None Group and appears here with the author's permission. Active in his local poetry group, David's poetry also appears on various sites including Poetry Soup.)