No Angel Came
She was eight months full and plump
wrapped in a pink faux fur jacket
sat ringless on the front stoop
reading Seventeen
for survival
he was listless in bed tucked in
by the gravity of his phobic mind
headphones buffering the noise
of guns and street and mother
unlike timeworn stories of glowing envoys
befuddled virgins unwed
clear signals of holy plans
and playbooks already drawn
no angel came to make good news
of your plot or mollify your pain
no messages fluttered down
from the clouds like ticker tape
so here is your Gabriel with the word
your hushed heart needs from beyond:
fear not, drop shame, stand tall,
carry on, good courage, sing out
you may not be Maryesque in blue
and embrace your story loud and strong
but something will be birthed from you
and only you can labor it to life for this world
God has chosen you for some essential
tinted dot in the panoramic pointillist canvas
so now let it out, your humble yowl,
your magnifying, audacious, wanton praise
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