Speaking to not one
  but the multitudes,
  the prophet bowed his head

And blessed within his servitude,
  the poor and hungry
  were given bread

Starting again
  his eyes looked up,
  and through a plain white cloth he bled

While standing in the place
  his father had,
  and repeating those words he said…

  “Don’t worship me,
  Redeem yourself,
  Divinity, yours at hand

  “Wash their feet,
  And free your mind,
  Bring peace throughout the land

  “Thank not one,
  But all you meet
  For a soul no longer wracked

  “And with each new breath
  The Angels dance
  —salvation looking back”

  (Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)
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Kurt Philip Behm

Longtime writer with twelve books in publication. Three of them Poetry. : The Death Of The Playground : The Sword Of Ichiban : Searching For Crazy Horse : Darkening Sun : An Anthology Of Perception-Vol's 1 & 2 : After Midnight : Sammy And Bumpers : The Fall City Mandate : Revenge Along The War Trail : Death from The Sky more…

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"The Angels Dance by Kurt Philip Behm" Poetry.net. STANDS4 LLC, 2018. Web. 17 Dec. 2018. <https://www.poetry.net/poem/47782>.

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