Gabriel’s Oboe


If Gabriel had an oboe,
as Morricone thought he might
he’d summon me low and soft as he did
wooing with ways and words
piercing my heart,
as he did.

sending arrows winged with declarations
announcing in my hearing
a salve-bringing message
healing the piercing,
releasing the flood
held back by brick-walled lies
and stone-cold pain,
untold ache I never knew
’til he announced the truth.

Angel–light bringer–
he’d hold my face
towards the sun,
as he did
speaking freedom over me,
affirming my release
pronouncing power, peace,
making me, this time,
the Messenger.

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