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About the Poem

Well, this one is not really about what it appears to be about. I had a close friend whose Mother was an alcoholic. And she treated him terribly. He would ask me what he should do for her, but I couldn't tell him . . . I didn't know. Then his mom ended her own life. And as I thought about it, it somehow made sense to me at the time that if I had only helped my friend get her help then she would still be alive. In retrospect I believe that I acted correctly, but I HAD to write about it and this is what came out.

Voices

The angel sits
silent
reading
the writings of ancient foes
Defeated

All of the flood
blood
and agony
are gone in a wave of self pity

Crying her only escape
voices of ones
once strong
dead
and gone

In pieces by the river of blood
Flowing from the wounds
in their hands
and feet
and sides

Water is her quest
water to heal
water you cannot find
but it is there

it can only be given
if only she would ask
it is easily lost
refused
almost wanting to be in her life

if only she had asked

It is wonderful
it will wash her wounds and make her complete
happy in winter
perfected in summer

but love takes two
the angel
and it
Would she have been true
It would have been . . .
never leave
whatever
it
is
is it
it is
me
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© 1999 Wes Mitchell Please respect the rights of the author and Passions in Poetry. If you would like to use this poem on your own web page, please contact the Author. Thank you.

3 Visitor Comments

NiQuil
Truly a wonderfull poem. Thank you. NiQuil
Heff
Wes this is Heather I just loved your poem so much. That was really sweet of you to write a poem about your friend. Your a great friend.
Jenn
I thought it was dramatic and yet interesting. I enjoyed reading and analyzing.

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