Not sure why the guise of a suicide
Was chosen for you to wear
He was young
More gristle than meat
Slouching in dirty baggy jeans
Holding a greasy ball cap
By the just right folded brim
Before he and his deer rifle
Laid down for the last time
On his daddy’s worn couch
You appeared the first time
The dust motes dancing around your head
Sitting in the wingback chair
An almost apologetic look
For the dusty work boots on your feet
Startling me into awareness
Which I learned was your intent
That second appearance
You walked out of the shadow
Into the crystal morning light
Hat in hand
As I made the bed
Pulling up the heavy winter comforter
And I was prepared
For the next lesson meant for my eyes
It was only after your third visit
Sitting on the porch in the afternoon sun
That I heard the sound of wings
That was your final visitation
And I have tried to stay
Ready for a sign
Sometimes looking for you
In the dancing motes
Of crystalline morning light
And in the acclamation of dove wings
thecourseofourseasons 
oh, Kathleen, I have chills! you’ve woven a very matter-of-fact tone with something so wondrously magical that the truth of it leaves an indelible mark… 🙂
How wonderful that you received visitations, especially the sound of wings. I especially love your closing stanza, the motes of sunshine, the dove wings…….beautiful.
An interesting image of an angel in the first stanza ~ Very original take, enjoyed it ~
magical, what a wonderful poem.
“Sometimes looking for you
In the dancing motes
Of crystalline morning light
And in the acclamation of dove wings”
loved how you ended it.
Thank you for sharing your experience.
wow. how intriguing kathleen…what an interesting angel as well….sometimes they are different in ways that get our attention you know…was just talking a good friend through a suicide this morning….the son of another friend killed himself monday and he was really struggling with it…really nicely done ma’am
I believe you!
I love the way you’ve used the details here Kathleen – from the work boots and the couch right the way through.