Angels flight in early morn,
Care for those hurt and forlorn.
Three in all depart that day,
to travel over a surging bay.
Heaven from earth, not one could tell,
as Satan’s hand rose from fitful hell.
To pull from the sky, the Angels Three,
and drag them into the angry sea.
Trumpets sound, loud and clear,
call from rest, those far and near.
And upon the shore, the gathering,
to search the depths for feathered wing.
And as they pry the them from Satan’s grip,
we mourn the Three, the fateful trip.
And comfort the widows as they cry,
knowing the lost, forever fly.
Poetry
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So I have to be honest: I’ve been coming back to this poem over and over again, trying to think of three Angels significant enough to be the three in your poem. Are they invented, or based on something? Either way, this poem is beautiful. It’s almost like folklore.
It’s based on a life flight helicopter that crashed in bay several years ago.
WOW…all I can say is WOW! We seriously need to connect this poetry is stunning as far as the symbolism goes. Wonderful ART!!
~BARDess~