We all need angels, every now and then
When the awkward shapes of life
Dig sharply in our sides
When pain runs riot in fragile hearts
Breaking windows and looting trust and hope

We all need divine envoys
To patch us up and enfold us
In heavenly wings
And whisper
Feather-light encouragements
“The light will come. The light will come.”

Our grown-up armour is really only cardboard
We’re still making helmets from boxes of cornflakes
Folding our arms and stamping our feet
With adult bravado; independence; I’m OK-ness
But life’s cudgels
Are not cardboard
They fall with metallic precision
It hurts. It hurts

We all need angels, every now and then.