After
Guardian’s “Get Down Ye Angels by John Agard
***
Come, come to this earth :
Oh!
Divine angels, don’t get stuck up
with the aroma of blooming flowers
in my garden ,where select hands pick
choicest and bounteous of sacred petals
sanctify the sanctum sanctorum;
with your angelic nod ruling in every stem,
leaf, root
and grass where dew drops
shine like shining of divine blessings
from above, showering only those
whom you like and converse with every hour
and moment with a magic wand of
prophecy;
every note passing from flute
and viola
by the stones move with a special rhyme.
The tiny speck of plants just born to this
Wet soil, nod with approval of their stay
pleasant again with a will of heavenly aura,
nothing can stay, stay without Heaven’s
Descent with assured Gain and Grace
ye! Heavens! Don’t delay, come, come
to this mundane insecure, veering in
unsteady coils.
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