St Peter And The Angel
Delivered out of raw continual pain,smell of darkness, groans of those othersto whom he was chained—unchained, and ledpast the sleepers,door after door silently opening—out! And along a long street'smajestic emptiness under the moon:one hand on the angel's shoulder, onefeeling the air before him,eyes open but fixed…And not till he saw the angel had left him,alone and free to resumethe ecstatic, dangerous, wearisome roads ofwhat he had still to do,not till then did he recognizethis was no dream.
More frighteningthan arrest, than being chained to his warders:he could hear his own footsteps suddenly.
Had the angel's feetmade any sound?
He could not recall.
No one had missed him, no one was in pursuit.
He himself must bethe key, now, to the next door,the next terrors of freedom and joy.
Denise Levertov
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