Poems for the End of the World: The Maps of Angels

what if you chose this moment?
what if it is all a gift opening itself to you?
what if you have chosen who you are?


I was brought home
by angels
more than once
only once
I saw them
felt my feet lift
as they carried me
and quickly saw me


learning to love
the silence
the unobserved
the hour before dawn


Learned to grieve while running.
Money should be ashamed of itself.
Leave my heaviest bones behind.
Make myself small enough to relax people.

Map breadcrumbs broken stems and branches.
Find my way back to myself every time.
Answer myself when I call.
My bones assemble, come running at my voice.


whom I mourned as a half self
whose names now feel too holy
to say out loud
lest I call you from your rest

who needed more than I could mouth
broke and could not break:

this time leave
weight where you stand
let the names you no longer answer to
or be blessed and carried
as you, love,
have been blessed and carried.

not everything given is a gift.
but this day
this blessed moment
let it be yours
and let yourself be carried by angels

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