photo by Piotr Chrobot for unsplash
Suspended above Shadrach,
Meschach and Abednego, the angel
gets the irony.
These three are lucky.
It does not always end well
in the Old Testament.
But Daniel’s friends don’t
burn up and die.
This angel could talk anyone
down from a ledge or out
of a live furnace.
This angel is waiting
for things to get out of hand.
In a corner with the bright torso
of a fire extinguisher
in The Chapel of St. Demetrios,
not much can surprise her.
A Greek Orthodox monastery
in the Sonoran desert
now neighbors pickleball courts,
prisons, strip malls,
high skies, spills of blooming vinca.
Remember, the Book of Daniel
is a book of exile.
Below us, Arizona stops
in straight lines.
Borders drawn on maps
by the hands of man.
People disappear, right now,
waiting for asylum,
waiting for the sun to set,
waiting for relatives,
waiting for the whims of ICE.
An arm’s length
from the angel’s stylized wings
the extinguisher waits
to make a first responder
out of anyone—monk or tourist,
congregant or thief.
What is more universal and
personal than exile?
Alarms wait to be sounded.
The angel
has seen it all before,
every hot variation.
Both jaded and hopeful
she knows ledges, knows borders.
She’ll talk us down
from anywhere if we’ll listen.
And will we listen?
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Katy, thank you for this terrific poem that simultaneously makes me smile and reminds me of the vast injustices that make both an angel and a fire extinguisher necessary in this world.
Your poignant juxtapositions never disappoint. You lead us to look at exile in rich ways and remind us of the totally broken US border management. The climactic “will we listen” is the phrase you leave to haunt this reader –jrs
This poem of celestial hurt proves the point again — there is nothing on earth or in heaven like a Katy Giebenhain poem.
We all need the angel at one time or another. Right now is that time, wherever we look–at borders and refugee camps, in places of worship, in malls, in ourselves. Vintage Katy, always waiting in that corner to rescue.
Katy, I loved the transition from Old World to New World, from the fire in the furnace to Arizona where it is blazing hot, and bringing calm in word to people who need calm and assurance in the poem. This is a beautiful piece of writing.