And all the angels,
the winged wonders
wandering in the wind,
wonder:
'Where will you sleep?
What will still your hunger? '
I tell them:
'Hush. My bed is made
of dreams and prayers,
and my bread is made of faith.'
'Something about you makes us
feel like Easter, ' the angels reply,
their hands no longer fists.
David Kowalczyk
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/still-thy-leprous-tongues/
