at the intersection of Divisadero
and Fell a fallen angel waits.
One hand open, one hand clapping
the side of his thigh, gnarled at the knee.

A bowl of soup, a piece of bread,
a home, glowing from within
welcomes you, a place to hang your hat
from the sheets of rain, shards of heat, stench of exhaust,
sneers of others who will never know your name.

Your face, an angry sea
twisted by time and trauma
encompass the glaze of your eyes
affixed to no-thing and no-where.

Who threw you away, sweet one?
Let your leathered skin be oiled
your feet be anointed, bathed in rose water
and milk.

Come inside from your poverty,
restraints of your reality.
Detach yourself from the incapacity
of those who hung their old coats on you
with their this ways and thats

Launch! from the tangle of this downward serpent
and bob your head to the surface of this life..your life

Own it now and take your seat.
One step from cement into
the cathedral of stillness,
erect yourself in the pew
worn with familiar patina.
In this place of the hush
in this place of the arms,
will you hear the wisdom of your wellspring
and step forward into the truest potential of your light.

copyright 2013 ~ Jennifer Brinn