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How to wrestle an angel

  • 14 February 2012

Love's Anchor

We squint through time's veil. You bring water to wounds.Stumbling through my days you are a light for my feet.Light and life are intertwined in caress and lavish, restoring kiss.Faced with languid lack of hues we eschew shadows' shade.Dank recess of human psyche gains perspective, shape, in your kindly glow.No Nightingale, blood lies not on form; yet carer you are.

Heart's guard and guide, lover, prosecutor, confidante,you traverse our orbit; your lamp reveals paths.At dawn, dusk, or midday, as with Aesop or Diogenes,you recount and weigh fables, dismissing foolishness and mistruths.In candles' glow you radiate. That same light gleams fromsunkissed glacial eyes, twinkling at this absurd manchild.

Facing faults in love's candid glare we dwell unshaken. Bound. Here.Fidelity's tangential weave preserves where discord undoes; lets fly and fall.With visages unclouded, sans mirage of allure or ease, we bathein luminescent peace. Coupled in clarity, ignitedin the little death: making light of life.Love's anchor holds true. Pray light shines ever still.

Barry Gittins


How to wrestle an angel

Clutching is advised; hold him tight as an idea,well-loved and convenient. Wriggling will occur,and it is imperative that the wings be kept from play.What ring could hold an angel, should he unfold,flex and soar? No ropes will ever net him.He will reach out with as many armsas Kali, as many voices as there are prophets,hoping to flick slow minds into new holds.Kicking him carries its own dangers too:should the crusciate hold, there's the femur,and the merest touch of a finger can mean trouble,when we're talking of an artful angel dodger.

Imagine pinning down the Aurora Australis;a butterfly of light, or holding a buttered pig.A pig that whispers music, and in whose myriadhues one hears music, whose breath, in your face,is just more of the same. The angel will improvise,finding the right riff to loosen your gluey grip.First sax, then double bass, or even an oud.May I suggest earplugs be inserted,when the first notes of liquid jazzdrip into your ears from above?Don't wait too long, like Hamlet's dad,although that was poison, and this is ecstasy.

Some find it off-putting, to paw the naked fleshof the celestial, as if spirit and body should never mix.But there are precedents. Besides, your will, your