Angel of history
Geese draw a lingering line above you,in archaic script across the sky.They are saying something.You don’t need to know what it isfor it to give you hope.Trees are holding hands beneath you,conveying an ancient wisdom.You don’t have to understand itto trust it.Creatures are singing in the dark of night.You don’t need to know their tongueto receive their prayers.The angel of history reads a book,a story of light and beauty.You can’t read her lips, but the musicsurrounds you, accompanies you, lifts you.The word of God is near but always hidden,maybe in that neighbor out…
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