lit from within

broken winged angels,
lit from within by moonlight crashing open
upon their crystalline hearts,
are walking by the darkened houses.
i see them slogging up
through the same snow
i struggle with
in my flimsy shoes, fingers crossed in the hope
there is no ice hiding
beneath. (but oh, what grace
in the flow of my body then, as it slips
into gravity defying movement intent on
keeping me soundly on my feet!)
the angels are capable
of such magnificent grace,
despite their broken-ness. i have much
to learn
from them, and they would teach me,
because they are kind.

i hear the crazed tongues of coyotes
calling from the trailer park
out back, in the cold morning light,
above the new snow, softly unbroken.
even my dog, wild mountain bear that he is,
dares not reply to their kind of wildness.
it is more finely delirious
than any
he could summon
from his sled dog heart. and yet,
both our hearts begin to dance
to that coyote cadence, naturally,
secretly, loud and yet
hidden safely within soft dark spaces.

at the bottom of the hill,
the fat prince wears a dingy coat of lizard green
and gloats of his great, good fortune--how the world
welcomes and rewards him! and yet
he truly cannot understand
why we do not share his joy. his life is charmed.
but his heart is lean and stringy and his lips are greasy
and he should not brag so
in the face of our hunger.

we are all of us
out of place. we have lost
what maps we had.
they have fallen to sodden pieces
in the solace of too many tear-scented baths.
we have stopped too long
by the roadside, hoping for
sure footing around the next turn.
we have lingered too long learning songs
in the shade of the dying elms.
our wings are broken, our songs are crazed,
our shoes too thin for the terrain.
our hunger is a constant slow burning
buzzing smoke beneath our skins.
and no, we cannot share the fat prince’s joy.
and so we must keep walking
before our hearts are silenced by
the burden of too much frost, too much ice
lying hidden beneath the surface, secretly lighting us
from within.