Tobias To His Angel

“All was taken away from you: white dresses, wings, even existence. Yet I believe in you, messengers.” —Czeslaw Milosz They say you don’t exist, that when you come at night, it is the curtain, light upon my trembling wrist, that saves me from despair, that it is I who bear the burden; I who pull the trigger; I who wrest the pistol from my chest. They say you can’t console and that in truth I stride alone without a guide. I don't know even now as wind blows through the curtain and hope begins to burgeon, who touched my lowered brow.