I’m slow to erase:
The holy sacred numbers of angels, that’ve been called to give up earthly seats,
And the secular numbers of earthly devils that never deserved loving attention.
In the aftermath of absence, I pretend in normality.
Reason says it returns. Emotions say whenever is too far.
I end up grieving them both:
the angels who were only meant to be held temporarily, and the devils that were never meant to be held at all.
Copyright © 2012 Nichelle Calhoun
interesting poetry; angles, devils and other human physical appearances