Falling Angel, September 11 by Angela C. Bilger

Falling Angel, September 11

And so it was
that a shadow fell—
or was it light,
absorbing too well
a darkness too dark
to behold? My lips
keep trying to say
prevail
but the vowels
won’t sound, for a body
doesn’t exhale while
suspended and unresolved.
I wish I could walk a high wire
between stars. I wish I had
a hand to hold.
I turn off the TV
and sink into
the inaudible.
Some days, grace
threads your shadow, the sky
sprouts wings, and we
are caught, heaven-held.

by Angela C. Bilger

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Editor’s Note: Stunning imagery and careful enjambment showcase both longing and grief in equal measure within this elegiac poem.