Angels sweat too, when they sleep


in little ways
the clouds say
the grapes
alone may not stay
the wind
for it does not know
bears it cooling breath
or fire below
Nature’s heart
(like woman’s too)
man’s laws
obedience will eschew
may men that learn
some hope, some pray
that rains
our sorrows
may wash away
Not alone
for sorrow done
Not innocence
Not guilt
would be undone
Clouds were made
where angels sleep
where dreaming
those below may keep
filled the urns
with wine and love
in theirs and thine
is ne’er enough.

Dr T.P. Wilkinson writes, teaches History and English, directs theatre and coaches cricket between the cradles of Heine and Saramago. He is also the author of Church Clothes, Land, Mission and the End of Apartheid in South Africa. Read other articles by T.P..