Flock Of Angels

A flock of angels
is waiting for me
beating and flapping
their wings in midair

Their job is not evil
it's only natural, and
someone has to do it
They themselves are evil
for I must grant evil a face

They share the face
my dearest flock,
I would recognize it, if I studied it
But each one, in seperate, is
waiting for me
in eternal tearstained loneliness

poem by Jonathan Land
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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