Why I Listen for the Angel

author’s note:

When a man hears angels singing
he hears angels singing.
                — Mary Oliver


WHY I LISTEN FOR THE ANGEL

Once as a child
I thought I heard an angel
singing wordlessly in a gentle upper octave.
A soft silvery sound.

And so, years later
during a turbulent time
I sat down in silence
hoping to detect
at least a trace of that song
and find the same solace.

But no—
I didn’t hear any angel.
However
as I recalled
that moment of pure peace
the love I’d once found within that sound
filled my heart again.

And then I sensed
what that child had sensed
long ago:
I was not alone.  I was known
by loving eyes in a world unseen.

But then I began to wonder:

if the angel felt such empathy
why didn’t it intercede
when it saw me stumbling—
when it saw me about to fall?

Then I realized
each time I land hard
I wake a bit more
and so, my eyes slowly open.

No, I don’t know
if I’m really watched over.  However
I can say for certain:

whenever I slip
I’m able to lift myself back up
by listening
for something I probably won’t hear:
the soft silvery song
of an angel.

mythsteps · why I listen for the angel

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© 2025, Michael R. Patton

The Ticket Taker

author's note:

If I was angel, I wouldn't mind working with humans...

But I think I'd need long vacations.


THE TICKET TAKER

One night I dreamt
I was working Gate Eleven
but not as a man but as an angel
because the stadium was now heaven
though still located near the track.

But I didn’t want to let the first man in--
I didn’t like his fanged teeth.

I also rejected the woman behind him--
because of her necklace of skulls.

But then a tall archangel
touched my shoulder and said:
“Since they both have tickets
  you must allow them to enter.”

What--have we no standards?
I protested.

The higher one answered:
“Look into their faces--
  can you see the pain?
  That pain is the cost
  of living on Earth.
  Having paid in that way
  they’ve earned heaven’s bliss

“but only a small amount--
  soon they must return to life on Earth
  along with the rest of the crowd.”

Isn’t anyone ever allowed to stay?
I asked in bewilderment.

“Okay, here’s the process,"
  the patient master replied:

“Next time these beings awaken on Earth
  their minds will again switch
  to survival mode--
  blotting out the memory of heaven
  just as before.
  However
  the humans will sense the loss--
  feel the pain of loss--
  and as a result
  engage in various worldly pursuits
  in an effort to regain
  the feeling of bliss.

“But though they may create
  fine pleasure for themselves
  and experience the satisfaction
  of grand accomplishment
  their striving will not bring back
  the heaven they’ve lost.

“But through the frustration of their search
  they will learn and grow
  and so, eventually learn
  what they truly desire
  and then they will vow
  to work to grow
  until they reach real heaven.”

At that point, I awoke
wondering if my dream
actually proved anything
about an afterlife.
But whatever the case may be
that dream helped me
because afterward
I did my job with new eyes:

I saw the pain
of that snide man with canine teeth.
I saw the pain
of that woman devouring her own life.
And by seeing their pain, I felt
the pain of my own mistakes.
But comforted myself with this thought:
Yes, I might still be a long way
from permanent heaven
but at least now I know
what I truly desire.

33 1/3 New Fables & Myths: ebook
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© 2022, Michael R. Patton

Still Working to Reach the Angel

author’s note:

When a man hears angels singing
he hears angels singing.
              -- Mary Oliver


STILL WORKING TO REACH THE ANGEL

Having lived among us for so long
angels have lowered their expectations.

Thus
they no longer feel angry at us--
they feel pity

for creatures so weak, so low.

One day
a winged shadow on the lawn
startled me out of the storm
in my mind.
Up above, I spied
an angel flying away--
tired of hearing me thunder.

At once I saw I was losing
the spirit that could save me
from my thunderstorm.

In desperation
I raised my arms
opened my hands
and began to beseech with a song.

I’d hoped to let flow
the lovely notes of a dove.
Instead, my voice cut the air
like the sharp dry caw of a crow.

But to an angel
any cry of humility sounds beautiful
because the supplicant openly admits
the painful truth.

And so, in response to my plea
the cherub circled round
to perch in an elm tree near me

as if to say:
since you now see my value
I will stay

but if you want me
you must reach me.

Fortunately, angels know
how slow we humans grow
and so
they’ll wait patiently--
as long as we keep trying.

33 1/3 New Fables & Myth: ebook
© 2021, Michael R. Patton

Inside & Out

author’s note:

Dedicated to all the worriers out there.

I know your pain.


INSIDE & OUT

Feeling defeated
at the end of another day
I fell back

and in the emptiness following a sigh
again heard that gentle whisper
of blended gender--
heard again those words inside my ear:
"Do not worry--
  I am with you always"

and as before, heard nothing more--
only silence when I asked
"who's there?"

yet I feel comforted by this occasional visitor:
I always imagine an angel behind my left shoulder
shielding me with the canopy
of its invisible wings

but maybe I'm actually hearing
a better stronger me
echoing from deep within--

shouldn't I rejoice at the thought
I hold such power of spirit?

Well, yes...nonetheless
I still want to believe:
I'm not alone--I am known.

So tonight
if the voice returns
whispering "Do not worry"
I'll again imagine a constant angel

but will also tell myself:
apparently, you have the strength you need
to triumph despite the defeat
of these heavy gray days.

© 2019, Michael R. Patton
searching for my best beliefs: poetry ebook

Angels in Wartime

author's note:

Those better angels of our nature can be so irritating.


ANGELS IN WARTIME

As I sat overhead on a branch
and watched the enemy creep
through the woods in search of me
I noticed

a certain dread in his step

and by feeling his feeling, again felt
that horrified angel
I try so hard to ignore--

bruised but strong
within my thin armor.

Once again
I tried to stifle its tears

and once again grew frustrated
at a tenderness so stubborn

and so, once again
redirected this conflict
by pointing my anger at the enemy below--
I raised my bow...I aimed my arrow

but when I again saw the dread
in that man's step
I again felt my angel
and realized
though I've killed many
that which I wish to destroy still lives

and will continue to weep
until I stop this dreadful killing.

But how can I stop
when my opponent won't?
How can I change him?--I can't!

Unable to answer my dilemma
I then began to climb--
hoping a greater height
would lead to greater insight.

But so far, I only know
what I've seen before:

the dread in the step
of so many men

which tells me:
they feel as I feel
they really don't want to kill--
they too have an angel.

Maybe some who fight don't
but I've seen enough dread
for me to have hope.

© 2018, Michael R. Patton
My War for Peace: poetry ebook