The Guardian Angel Café Poem by Zyw Zywa

Sweetheart, the earth is getting cold
we have to do something
take ourselves by the hand
The guides walk away

in different directions
guided by the wishes
of their followers, that's how

it always goes, whatever you think of it
If only there were guardian angels
with power, not the writers

who meet in this café
no, a Guardian Council
for presidents and scholars

who want to unload graphite powder
on the north pole, throw atomic bombs
upon it, or build a dam

in the Bering Strait, with pumps
on peaceful nuclear energy
finishing the job

Yet... all of us, we
must do it ourselves, guard each other
with wings of compassion and reason