Angel by Eileen Sheehan

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He said, I am old and

everything has a bitter 

taint and besides

I have only these oddments

to offer; things broken, 

unfinished, unused and I’m not even 

sure why it is that I’ve 

kept them so long.

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But she saw how his body

radiated light and he carried

not just a jumble of wheels,

coils, springs but the very

ones she’d been needing to

mend the faltering

mechanisms of her heart.

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And his eyes were pure

as a child’s

and she knew

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from that moment on

she was his

entirely

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Eileen Sheehan is from Killarney, Ireland. Her collections are Song of the Midnight Fox and Down the Sunlit Hall (Doghouse Books). Angel was first published in THE SHOp: A Magazine of Poetry (ed John and Hilary Wakeman).

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I found this love poem very moving, beautiful and rooted in reality. I was intrigued by deeply felt emotions relating to the word ‘Angel.’ The air and thought around the word Angel called for earth and water, both surface and interior, to flesh out the wishes and realizations being expressed and conceptualized. To create several of these images I remixed a photo of waves crashing onto a beach in California uploaded by user Tewy on Wikipedia Commons: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.5/deed.en

Fragments…traces… of a mathematical formula by Nikolaos Manolopulos appear ever so faintly, unknowable, perhaps in three images, from my first gestures integrating Wikipedia Commons material with my ink drawing.