2 Poems by Ute Carson
The Angel of Stalingrad
As teenagers playing charades,
I slipped into a flowing lace gown
with a fluffy white veil, trailing
from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet.
Temporarily, I lost my moorings and became a beautiful angel.
Ascending teenagers playing charades
on the wounded and dying at Stalingrad,
soothing them with my protective angel wings.
Dream-like, I swooped into rooms of suffering,
and holding a weary head in the palm of my cupped hands,
I kissed balsam drops of comfort onto its forehead.
Hidden in one ample flapping sleeve of my gown,
I guarded my tiny gilded blade,
and with its sharp diamond edge,
sometimes pierced a wounded heart to ease the dying.
Drops of blood would mingle with my tears.
Afterwards, I always fled to my wishing tree,
where snowdrops, soft as cotton,
or cooling bubbles of rain,
or a soothing summer breeze
would cleanse and console me.
Then a fresh lace gown would descend from the branches,
which I gently folded and tucked beneath my left arm,
under my heart, ready for the next deed of love.
~~
Crossing to Safety
Unshackle yourself from regret and guilt.
Stop bemoaning the roads not taken.
Although past injuries will not be forgotten,
they no longer hurt.
When you leave middle age
for the country of the old,
be sure to carry
the light of each living moment with you.
Copyright ยฉ 2026 Ute Carson
All Rights Reserved
