AMONG THE FALLEN, by Ann K. SchwaderThe sun mends nothing. Only nightfall holds
what healing may remain to us who wait
with broken pinions, just beyond that veil
so few acknowledge. Fallen from our own
mythology, forgotten now by those
whose fear & faith created it, we fade
to footnotes. To the moonlight that prevails
upon our darkness. In this long Almost
of exile, we remember heaven’s wars,
but never we fought for—or the cost
of one small rock. We vowed to reign in hell
& landed here. Immortal, soul-maimed, torn
to shadows, we drift whispering till dawn
dispels what few illusions we have left.
(after Elinor Wylie)
