Lovely winged words

Lovely winged words                                                                               

I’m no angel and this ain’t heaven.

Every human endeavor

beginning on this rough stretch –

the ocean’s edge of ignorance

where nothing grows; soon swept away

to what surely looks like dissolution and calamity. 

These poems of ignorance

scratched into the surface between tides

repeat the only message – all I have to say 

to my one potential overhead rescuer:  HELP!

Angels, perhaps, have their choice

of lovely winged words, singing

God’s praises; floating about heaven

but I’m no angel and this ain’t heaven.

O child of God, even your impudent, raucous cries,

the angels say, reach God as tunes of humility.