A Prose Poem by Andrew Leggett

ANGELTURTLE COAXES THE SOUL   
         
Come now, little frightened one. That twinge is all you’ll feel as death tears you from the desiccated husk that lingers in your carapace. Then it’s done and all is light. You are floating now above your shell. You seem surprised I hover, spreading protection of bright wings as you stare down at your remnant. There is nothing you should fear as I reach to catch you, shielding you from Valkyries and other predatory fowl circling in hope that you will stray into the bardo space where you become their choice reptilian feast of sorrow. Come closer now and let me wrap my webbed, clawed feet around you as I bear you up to where you swim, with myriad freshwater turtle souls, in the river of light. Some you may recognise: your mother, who passed over soon after she laid your clutch. Several of her hatchlings swim in this bright stream in which the golden minnows jump: Leonardo, Donatello, Michelangelo. Here it’s always summertime. You will remember me as Raphael, the Terrapin of Seraphim. You may hear Ella Fitzturtle ‘rise up singing’ to Gershwin’s melody ‘as I spread my wings and take to the sky.’