Wings of Egypt

I see

angel* wings torn and lying

on church floor

on Palm Sunday.

I pick up

the scattered red feathers

from the white marble

and turn them into

wailing words

in vain.

The humans have lost their eye, ear long ago.

Their sniffing nose prowls for gun powder

to begin their feast.

The human beasts!

What fun, what delight

in peeling angel feathers!

But the immortal hearts

beat in the quills of poets

beyond the knowledge

of these triumphant pests.

*in one of the explosions at Coptic churches on Palm Sunday in Egypt occurring in the pews near the front of the church, many of the dead were children.

Posted for Poetry Pantry @ Poets United


24 thoughts on “Wings of Egypt

  1. Sumana, I am truly awed by this poem. Hard to put my feelings into words, but you have captured the profound awfulness of this situation so painfully well. Such evil in the world. I cry for the torn angel wings…red on the white marble floor. I shake my fist at the human beasts who have perpetuated such inhumanity. I cry for us all really. Where has humanity gone!

  2. Oh my, my friend, what an eloquent pen you have! The torn angel wings, the dead children, the human beasts. I am resigning myself to the fact that the human experiment has apparently failed. At least insofar as our demented “leaders” and those fanatics on the fringes whose rage is assuaged only by the death of innocents.

  3. I can’t describe my feelings after this poem of yours, Sumana. It’s a horrying incident but you have wondefully penned it. Ah, angels – some of them will never be given the chance to soar.. fly.

  4. One can only hope, we, as a species, can grow up, leave this violence, behind us. Where it only exist, in history books and the dark minds of horror writers.

  5. I pick up
    the scattered red feathers
    from the white marble
    and turn them into
    wailing words

    This image really touched me.. what more can a poet do than pick up fragments of what remains when faced with these inhumane acts?

  6. an impressively moving and descriptive piece of poetry – am glad you have not let their passing just go by without a word Sumana. Especially like the concordance between the angel feathers and quill

  7. You have captured the horror of fanaticism powerfully in this riveting work. The image of the torn angel wings is so impactful and layered. An important piece, of writing, Sumana.

Thank You :)

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