An angel appeared as I was reading the epilogue
Of a violent death
The death of an aboriginal man
Murdered by whites circa 1789
And the angel hovered within a bright light
That rose from the page
And this book was found amongst old ruins
In a rundown estate
My breath was taken from me
My soul was exposed to the devil
An aboriginal friend lost without reason
His colour was his crime
My angel said he was a great leader
A tribal elder of such esteem
He journeyed upon a farm seeking food
And his children thought him proud
White man did not understand his request
And an angel still stands as guardian of the good
Irrespective of colour and need