The Two Angels Michael

I see you through the window, a song floats past the door,
Though Irish music fills our veins, my lyrics you ignore.
My bold heart rushes to you, my mind wills you to see,
I’m an unwilling prisoner, please do turn the key.

Why have you left me, dear Michaels, a toy so wrecked and forlorn?
On a high shelf you have placed me, far from welcoming arms.
Shall I fall to pieces, my ashes brooding in a jar?
Will you then see me or shall you stand afar?

Closets of junk held treasure, when spaceships scorched the night
Comrades in familial war, we stood side by side.
Number one you saved me, number two I gave you life.
Always my angels Michael, my constant through all strife.

Patters of little feet could be a third time charm.
Shall I know three Michaels, past steel-green slits on guard?
Build me a bridge of noble deeds, do not let me drown.
I loath this three ring circus, I fear the stupid clowns.

Did you forsake wings, my Michaels, that carried you so far and high?
Why did you willingly tumble, brushing the stars from your eyes?
Shackled by mortal pledges, your dreams are fallen to ground.
Will you carry my heart with you, long after it ceases to pound?

Lift my spirit with your tales gallant.
Face me, archangels, with wings rampant.
Slice open your horizons, don’t leave me out.
My heart stifles within, watching your self doubt.

I may turn the corner, before your very eyes,
If I rejoice in leaving, I’ll mourn for your lost lives.
With wide eyes, you came to this place,
I watched you strive with angelic pace.

You’re always busy, your hobbits in line.
I yearn for the village, I miss the tribe.
An ill, addled creature, I am maintained
Part of the family, only in name.

Is my suffering foul and contagious?
My broken body’s yet strong and courageous.
You give me kindness with consideration,
I cross the line with great trepidation.

Without a Michael by my side,
No loyal scout, no mother’s pride,
My body slumps toward bended knee.
Do you perceive this selfish plea?

Rushing towards your life and duty,
You don’t embrace a sad, dark beauty.
I made my life enlightening your load,
Now I am filled with stories still untold.

When this road forks, three paths that part,
You plod to the end, I stumble to start.
If you take the high road, and I take the low one,
I’ll be in heaven , but shall you see Scotland?

My spirit writes, I sign on the wind,
Not all wicks burn down to the end.
Wombs grow webs, bonds untangle,
Brother and son, my angels Michael.

— 2009 Soulfulsilkee

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