Face of an Angel

I wrote this poem for a dear friend who was with me when I was very ill.

In the world of black,
No definition,
No hue of hope offered.

Strange hands,
Strange sounds,
Questions unanswered

Then in the cloud was the Face of an Angel, saying “it’s going to be alright”

Then to the depths
A paralytic retreat
There’s no exit from where I’ve returned

Harsh movements
Impersonal intrusions
Am I dead or alive?

Then from the cloud came the Face of an Angel, saying “it’s going to be alright”

As the black turns to gray
I see hope
Perhaps a new day

How did I make it
Why did I try?
It would have been easy to have not

The end is not hard
It’s a soft landing
No pain

But I let the hands work on me
I had no fear
I abandoned myself
I followed the light

When the Face of an Angel said, “It would be alright”.