Angels

 

But they had picked me up, 

  Weak and stumbling, 

  

and hardly able to bare my own weight. 

Perhaps they carried me often. 

  Such a lot to bare, 

an empath on this plain, starving...

Of her only source. 

Shall it be Love? 

 Or Tenderness? 

  Is it all Light? 

Is it your, Presence, my Dear Divine? 

Whatever it was, 

I was starved of it. 

Emaciated, stamina hardly enough at times. 

  Headaches wounding. 

Nerves on Fire. 

Love, rot. 

It was no place I understood. 

Not in my soul, not in my heart. 

  But I would bare it. 

I would strengthen. 

I would find resource. 

(And) whether it was my own Arc, 

Or the Arc of the Angels...

It was only this...

That could bring be back to my feet...

Time, 

And time, 

Again.