I HEARD AN ANGEL SING


a gentle hand strums
tranquil chords
on a spectral guitar,
as silken voice spins
words of cotton candy and
songs of common humanity:
love,
longing,
soul-searching,
and surrender,
breathed out in sighs
of honeyed melody.

waves of cool, fragile grace
permeate the room,
washing over the crowd;
soft smiles arise,
and liquid opal eyes
light up with knowing.
empathic hearts keep time,
beating together
in rhythmic communion,

immersed in the moment,
lost in the music of
less complicated times;
while elsewhere,
the grim symphony of war
plays on.

2003 by Metta Jon Maslow (3-29-03)