Juliette, did you say The Angel Michael would watch over us?
High and burning with fire, pure and sharp wings, might sword,
Up in the sky and in our hearts, in our souls, ever brave, ever faithful.
I see the stars falling out of the sky, the moon as blood, the sun dark,
I see bared teeth and clenched fists, gun barrels pointed at so many,
I see the promises of a savior become grotesque in their breaking.
It’s January, Juliette, and a New Year has come, but it all feels the same.
Where is Michael, as this sad season turns bleaker with our broken hearts?
Where is Michael, as the faithful sharpen their fangs, file their talons?
Maybe, Juliette, the falling snow is manna from his outspread wings,
And this hunger for peace and love is being answered with the quiet
And the momentary innocence of a snow morning, as we sleep.
I hope I can hang onto that hope.