William Michaelian

Poems, Notes, and Drawings

The Murder of Angels

Some of us are armed with guns, others with guitars, paintbrushes, and poems. Love, though, is not armed, and it remains the strongest, tenderest, wisest, most patient, pliant force of all. Is there a better way to follow? Does one need politics and religion in order to live peacefully and to act with love? No. And yet we have created a world in which nearly all of us are armed in some way, except for little children, who are not benefited at all by living among armed adults. In truth, few of them survive. Yes, they grow older; they become women and men; but in the process they too become armed. Some seem to take up arms willingly; others must have arms thrust upon them; few ever realize they are armed, or how they came to be that way. They form opinions and act accordingly. They think their shared view of the world is the most practical one. But is it practical to be armed? Is it practical to choose sides, wave flags, and march to war? Is it practical to act with hostility towards those who, on the surface, appear different than you? Again, no. The answer is obvious, just as it is obvious that we come to identify so strongly with our arms of whatever form, that we will defend them at all cost, down to our very own children, which is nothing less than the wholesale murder of angels. This, we say with pride, is proof of our love. But love needs no proof. It is not our property. We cannot bend it according to our will. It is not something we can measure or dole out. Countless of us have come and gone with our creeds and toy guns. We die clutching our arms. Love outlives us all. Love takes us home.

September 4, 2020


[ 860 ]

Categories: New Poems & Pieces

Tags: , , , , ,