you found her barely breathing
tangled in man-made traps
snares, chains, steel-jaws
here, even the gods can die

the sprite of seas and skies
and the rainbows, her golden wings
danced with the spectrum at her feet
now bleeding from shoulders and ankles

sure, the arches only form after the rain
but after years of torrential downpour
you found her drowning in a rainstorm
pierced with spears and plucked feathers

she performs no miracles and speaks no Latin
merely, she is old with enormous wings
she is no angel, and entirely undeserving
but still, you immortalize her with your touch