Angels Fallen Poem by Holly Jamestone

Where do they go if they voluntarily
Leave of their own doing
At their own hand thereby rendering
God’s applecart unmercifully upended

Do their cells weep any differently
Do their hearts cry for them and their
Ailing brains hear the lucid angels bawling
Inside the grumbling gray clouds

Do the Angels Fallen float on the mountaintops
Down the hill from Heaven as they eagerly eye
The lemon meringue clouds whose vapor peacefully rests
At the edge of the Pearly Gates

Do their minds regain clarity if their blinders
Are cast into the gutters of Hell in the eleventh hour
As they try to turn back from dark decisions
But their view is blocked by a tempestuous sky

Or through their tear-filled eyes do they see
A blurred horizon of a tornado that they sadly created
As they voluntarily left of their own doing
And became Angels Fallen

Edward Allan Duman
[5/13/1954 - 5/14/1988]

(5-14-2013)
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