Ocean-cool eyes flame blue.
His righteous trumpet
Sounds in human organs
And leaves me breathless.
It is not with shepherds’ fear
That I bend and tremble.
Believing his good fire
Does not mean to scorch my flesh,
I expect to be left
Holding a scarred-soul
And a heart harmed
By joy tearing away on bright wings.
Angels never stay.
In the twinkling dust of departure
The wounds are cherished,
Pain is only earthly evidence
Of Heaven’s visitation.