angel poem

she was a beauty in the days
earth travails
how like the stars are these white, nameless faces
do you hear the rain?
pushing out, struggling vainly
the sun is up
into the silent land
my mother twines me roses wet with dew
have you seen walking through the village
all quiet along the potomac
there was never a sound beside the wood but one
i have come into the desert because my soul is athirst
some of the hurts you have cured