Visitation

I have seen angels before

with faces like yours

so white and still

an implacable beauty

an impervious threat

and I am as afraid

of you as them

with their wings predator tipped

and, o horror, nothing behind.

There is nothing to touch to feel

but still their long fingers grip

the cold iron swords

that burn with celestial ice

the bitterest of all wrath.

I am afraid to touch your hand

lest I find in its grip a hilt.

I am afraid to ask your name

for my fear is that I know it-

O grief how did you find me again?