Dirty Angels Poem by george fillingham

Dirty Angels



"Every angel is terrifying."
Rainer Maria Rilke

Everyone has seen them sitting on a concrete bench near the entrance to a home,
Those concrete angels like a thoughtful child with wings:
They never change their pose, fingers on the chin in sand and gravel contemplation.

Their mass production limits their appeal, made in concrete molds for sentimental retail.
They are no guardians, unless they trip you in the dark.

Through sun and rain, as season's pass, degenerating with age, they suffer wear
Without a squawk, weathering into grimy little eye-sores
Most people would discard, replace with fresher concrete faces.

Years ago idealized angels were not considered sentimental.
In marble Rome the angels exalt for wars with evil,
Veteran angels armed with spears and swords of flame that fought defiant Lucifer,
Struck immortal wounds in immortality,
Drove Legion from the Vault, to plot and languish now in Dis.

These angels are not children.
See how their fingers grip the saber hilt;
See how their tightened forearms launch the lance.
Achilles' spear brought death to heroes;
Theirs bring heavens down.
These are stone impressions, credulous as a mind's eye view of justice,
Ancient as elements, still terrifying the wicked.

How the mighty, and the faithful, have fallen.
Now these dirty little angels with eroded wings
Flecked and marred by dust and rain,
Tantalize the impulse to believe.

But, from behind, that feathered shoulder broadens,
Strengthens, putting something of the real soldier in them.
These are my protectors.
They know the world, how bad it gets.
They never turn away and cry.
They draw a line, forgive their enemies
Then stand and fight.

POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
In this bible belt region many folks have these small angels on their lawns and while they at first appear to be ornamental only once I saw that broad back and those heavy wings I was moved to write this poem.
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Lillian Thomas 25 July 2019

There was an artist I think in Los Angeles that would decorate small plaster or cement angels and leave them all around the city. I saw a few of them somewhere on the web. Someone photographed them. The artist painted them often to match the surroundings so that they were somewhat camouflaged. These were all the pudgy little cupids. I especially like the cadence that sets a serious tone even while it makes a few light remarks. Its one I reread several times.

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