The angel was blindfolded, but she knew her fate
“Why do we bury her alive?”
the boy asked
“What did she do?”
The angel was grateful to be carried
the boy moped
“I wanted Beelzebub,
not a stupid girl.”
“She wounded him pretty badly”
his companion said
“I lost money on that bet!”
I know I wanted to write a poem when I saw this painting. What I don’t know is how I came across the painting. Was it a prompt somewhere? Was it on the app on my phone called Daily art (highly recommend if you’re into art, they come up with both well knows and unknown masterpieces)?
There’s more I don’t know. Did I read A Time to Every Purpose Under Heaven (called A Time for Everything in the US) by the Norwegian writer Karl Ove Knausgård before I wrote this? That book is so strange that you can’t look at an angel the same way after reading it.
The painting holds a sense of mystery, so I guess it fits that my memory is blurred. I’m posting this poem for #NaPoWriMo say 28 in the hope that as many people as possible get to see the beautiful painting by Hugo Simberg: The wounded angel (1903)