Member Poem

The Blue Angel

          At the end of the world, I opened the curtains so my little brother and sister could see the sky. It was a Mother’s moon, bright as an angel's glow, like the one outside our window. She beckoned us to follow her to safety. We linked hands and stepped outside.

         She drew us down the streets to the graveyard and told us to stay there. So we did, all through the hurting night, as the skies bled fire. When the sun rose, we saw another angel, dressed in black.

         "Too late, my dears," he said. “Blue angels always lie."