The Last Pieces Poem by Daniel Brick

Finally I know the whole truth.
The last pieces of the puzzle
were delivered to me by an angel
disguised as an ordinary hospital
attendant. I recognized his angelic
signature shining beneath his uniform.
But I had forgotten his name but he
just smiled wanly, both of us aware
of what really matters and will
never be forgotten. When I finally
reach heaven and he returns there,
his earthly mission complete, we will
know the names of all beings and things.
He was obviously in a hurry, but I
detained him, because who else could
could share this moment with me?
A divorced man, with only one distant
distant daughter and a handful of friends,
mostly alive in the country of memory,
none of whom is ready to hear these
final truths from just another crazy
survivor. Who but my attendant angel
could grasp this hopscotch assemblage
of passions and aspirations that make up
the News of Universe? But here it is,
on my hands, some of it typed, some of it
handwritten, and some of hiding behind
a series of ellipses. To read those passages
it helps to have a touch of what they call
mental illness in this hospital, just the brush
of angel wings passing over you. The angel, who
was so impatient a moment ago, sits quietly
by my bedside now, his eyes wide with compassion
watch over me. I cannot speak, but I can still
smile my contentment. Soon smaller angels will
bring my food, and others will hover invisibly
nearby all through the night. Could this hospital
room be an antechamber of heaven?