i.

i am stone,
a bandaged angel
in the middle of hell
where the lightening lifts
the dark night from its gloom
and stars no longer shine.

ii.

i am a skeleton of flame,
death’s child of an ugly
war, and all the love
in the world can’t change
the past like a rose pressed
in the dust.

iii.

i am the living,
seeing the soldiers come,
and i pray to god and the angels,
on this broken road,
that the darkness is not real
and the angel is not stone.