Was he an angel?
 

Sometimes the young can end up in a terrible

Place. No job, no work, no money. When small

Things become big things and the world becomes

A frighteningly lonely place. I too once felt the sting

Of youth and I can confirm it is not a nice place

To be nor to linger.

 

Bad times give rise to dreams and dreams often

Give rise to truth and in my case I dreamt that I

Dwelled in a dark place of little sun and little light.

I remember there being a lot of wreckage around

And wondering further I came upon a high brick

Wall unscalable or so it seemed, until I came upon

A ladder, placing it against the wall I climbed until

I could see over the wall and there on the other

Side of the wall was a place of wonder, of bright

sunlight, blue sky, flowers and a lush green

Meadow as far as the eye could see.

 

The next day I felt compelled to visit my old

Church St John the Evangelist. I couldn't get

In at first, modern church practise is to lock the

Doors, but calling at the rectory I soon found

Myself sat in the same pew I had so often sat

In as a younger man. I think the vicar must

Have thought me mad wanting to sit in a cold

Empty church on a weekday when most guys

My age were hard at work

 

I sat for a while and bowing my head more in

Shame than anything else, when suddenly I

Both saw and felt a figure in white standing

Behind me. I felt neither alarm nor fear, an

Angel perhaps, but no, more significant than

that if I may out it that way. I have always

Thought it was Christ, tall, bronzed and with a

Beard, he smiled and put his left hand on my

Left shoulder resting it there in a warm and

Most comforting fashion. How long his hand

Remained I don’t know, but I do know that a

Transforming wave ran through me, a heavenly

Fringe field, a strange overwhelming sensation

That at the same time proved very welcome, a

renewing force, an electric charge of ambition...

When I finally left the church a different young

Man walked out into the sunlight. A young man

Who found his ladder, climbed his wall and grew

Up to be me.

 

I can honestly say, that whilst I do not pretend to

Understand these things, I have never looked

Back, nor will I ever forget the dream that led

Me to the church, that led me to a moment of

Love I will cherish forever, even if, for some,

And there are many, it was perhaps the work

Of a young poets mind.

 

© Joseph G Dawson