A new poem

The Wingless Angel
or
Gertrude Baniszewski



I.



Many years ago,
When it was young,
An angel hid its wings.

And they languishéd
And shriveled up
And soon could not be seen.

For wings need the sun
And light of day
To strong and healthy stay.

But the angel shamed
for loss of wing
although they could return,

By unveiling them
Before the sun --
Wings can't be starved for good.

Embarrassment was
The chief concern
For the angel wingless;

And therefore it hid
From kin outdoors
Saw not the healing rays.

So its wings stayed stubbed,
It famishéd,
Alone in a dark cave.







II.



Lonely Dark Cave,
Miserable,
With nobody who cared.

The wingless angel
Decided there
To others to give birth.

They, like itself:
Without the sun,
And wings that'd never grow.

Was yet the angel
Miserable,
And more and more it seemed.

But at least it weren't
Alone, alone,
So more it had and took.

And all these born
In darkness
Had never seen the day,

Had never feasted
Upon the sun,
And so never had wings.

How evil it is
That angels live
That never have known wings.

And that is why their
Dam's called devil
And they the devil spawn.








III.



Then it came to pass,
An angel called
Upon the lonesome cave.

And the devil spawn
upon it looked:
They who'd never seen wings.

And they longed for it
And wanted it;
So inviting it in.

Just so the angel
Entered the cave,
Lonesome, dark, and evil.

And saw in the spawn
The roots of wings
That into flight could heal.

Then into the mother's
Presence she came,
And in her sight she quaked,

For here was the beast
Which could enforce
Fear of wholesome sunlight.

The devil looked down
The Angel t'ward
Which entered her domain,

And the sight of it
Offended so,
She made it hide its wings.

They were the wings that
she remembered
Upon her own broad back,

That then were large and
Glorious
Before they'd first been hid.


Now with only stubs
(Though fertile stubs)
She could not stand to see

The great and blinding
Expanse of white
Which burned her cave dark'd eyes.

And so the devil
to angel bid
“Cover those loathsome wings

“Which burn my eyes with
their unkempt state,
Those stained horrendous wings!”

“My wings are stained not,”
The angel said.
“They're white and bleached like clouds.

“And if they're not,
compare your spawn
Who don't have any 't all.”

“You wicked awful
angel to talk
about my loves like that.

“They haven't yet wings
because they've not
had chance to grow like you:

“Who mistreat them bad
And don't deserve
To keep those wings of God's!”

And so the devil
Took such offense
At seeing such bright wings,

She struck the angel
Upon the earth,
And bade her spawn hold fast.

She bade those wingless
angels who had
never yet seen a wing


To hold down the angel
onto the earth
Wh'le feathers she plucked at.

And when the feathers
Each one was torn,
That still was not enough.

And she bade her children
Hold tight until
She'd ripped into the wings.

With her foot unto
The angel's back
And clasping to their frame,

She rent the wings from
That angel's back;
And then the angel died.

For the devil was
offended to
recall she'd ever flown.




IV.



Selfishness and pride
More treacherous
Are once guilt's applied.

If only they'll bare
To let the world
Know that they ever had lacked,

Then wings are ready
To spring right fresh
and so to heaven fly.

Will any in that
Dark lonesome cave
Ever hence see the light?

Paul Jacobson Smith