ANGELS IN THE ASHES

I read the braille of the earth

when I grazed my hands across the dirt.

My only chance to walk on water

is when the river has caught fire.

Laughter from my childhood

has cycled back inside the wind.

I do not recognize the man

through the blur of all the sin.

And hidden by the rose's beauty

awaits the blood thirsty thorn.

And in the ashes of what once was

stand silhouettes,an angels form.

Now my hands never taking rest

are broken,burned and showing bone.

From trying to piece back together,

a hope,a soul,a love,a home.