Tag Archives: RDP

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Comfortable with angles

I am thinking about monsters
That I am comfortable with the monsters
in my dreams
but terrified by the angels.
Though I type angles.

But I also dream that all the angels fall
all are made to fall
they fall down then back up
when they fall down they burn
if they fall here
burn in the atmosphere
then they are red or black and burnt
and we think they are devils: monsters.

If angels are monsters
and monsters are angels
and they go back and forth
and I type angles
because everyone makes mistakes
even angels
and to make something perfect
is an offense to the Beloved
because only the Beloved is perfect
and ineffable.

Still the angels.
I am afraid.
So was Mary, sore afraid.
Monsters are easy: at worst they can kill me
and they never have
in my dreams.
And they are sad and alone and weep.
I comfort them. Which makes them afraid,
because they are not used to being loved.
I wonder if I frighten them
like the angels frighten me.

And then I can understand
a little
of why the angels frighten me so much.
I too am not used
to feeling loved.

written September 13, 2023

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: bread winner. But I can’t eat gluten any more and my lungs are too vulnerable for the work I love. So how bread and how winner? Maybe the angels and angles and monsters will tell me.

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Wing brush

I fly home tomorrow. Meanwhile we have split up and I wandered around Venice much of today. I caught the pigeon in flight in this street. If I stretch out my arms I can brush both sides.

Baggage reorganized and no souvenirs except photographs and memories. Food to get me through flights, too! It has been a delight to travel with family and without oxygen.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: brush.

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Comfortable with monsters

I am comfortable with the monsters in my dreams.

I dream of monsters howling and I go to them. They could be sick or hurt or need help! I must go to them! And the monsters are very noisy but they are babies. Abandoned and dirty and dark and hungry and cold.

This has nothing to do with my childhood. Do you believe me?

I have a pack and supplies in the dream. I carry the monsters up up into the light. I feed them and bathe them and diaper them and wrap each one in a blanket and hold them. They howl until they are too tired to howl and then they sulk. At first they do not know how to respond to kindness and love. But they learn and grow and are beautiful.

I am not comfortable with the angels.

I dream that all the stars start falling and then I see that they are angels. I am so frightened, why must they fall? I don’t want to be an angel and then I am falling and crying. The angels are at perfect peace with falling but I am not. I don’t understand, Beloved. Why do the angels fall?

I ask the Beloved over and over. My poems are questions. Why, Beloved, why?

The angels fall down and up, over and over. They are good then bad, or labeled bad, then labeled good.

Just like people.

The angels are seen as black or white. But I see them as black on white heaven or white on black heaven, it doesn’t matter. Do not let the color be a label. And after someone falls, they are burnt in the sky. They are seen as a devil or a monster!

Angels falling, fallen, monsters.

And I am here for the monsters. Who are angels, in disguise.

_______________________

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: disguise.

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Layers of history

We wandered Rome today, to the Pantheon first and the through layers of ruins to the Colosseum. It is so amazing to see and read about buildings from 2000 years ago or 1000 years ago. It appears it’s peculiarly difficult to dig the new metro line without unearthing more ruins.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: peculiar.

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Fashion spoon

I don’t think I can claim fashion plate on this trip. Backpack and hostels with a younger family member. I don’t envy the suitcases much because there are lots of stairs. We are getting around by bus, train, metro and feet. Our phones are happy to tell us which bus and when, though the when is not always right.

More of a fashion spoon, I think.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: fashion plate.

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Choices

At high tide there was mild turmoil in waiting to see Saint Mark’s Basilica. Either wet shoes, or buy plastic covers, or remove your shoes and socks until you are at the church.

We took off shoes and socks until we were inside. Worth it!

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: turmoil.