Unbroken AngelI am an angel. Standing behind you, looking ahead at the road you must travel. The sun shines, the air is blue, and not a hint of wind blows. You are radiant, your aura pure and white though…not untainted by previous tempests on the dusty track behind us. The dust, it is broken dreams and hearts, the remnants of a past littered with bursts of sunshine, thunderstorms, and vortexes strong enough to break a body in two.
But here you are, embracing the good weather, ready to press on and begin again.
Another angel appears in front of us, her aura tinged with black. I cock my head and ponder this, knowing in my heart, my gut, my bones, that she is in disguise. You, however, shift those feelings aside and welcome the angel into your ever-expanding heart. She dances, gambolling beside you as you traverse your road. And then a forked tongue appears, sliding out of the angel's mouth, covered with words of vitriol. That tongue lashes, striking you, shocking you senseless, and you see her for the first time. Her wings have disappeared, her halo replaced with wretched horns. Red infuses her previously white face, an ugliness that hurts the eyes and sears the heart. You have been betrayed. The angel, a mole in your camp.
I knew that was no angel, but your wholesome heart still found room. I am proud of you for that. You are a better angel than I.
The devil retreats into the sudden shadows either side of your road. Great, fog-like billows that creep across to join those on the other side. The sun dims, and clouds appear, grey and heavily pregnant with threatening rain. A sly wind comes, almost imperceptible, like a skeleton stashed in the far reaches of a dusty, long-forgotten closet. It is there but not doing any harm, so you plod on, knowing a storm is coming. Knowing you have battled through worse before. Knowing you will again.
A tempest swirls up ahead, the rumble of thunder reverberating through the ground and into your body. You wrap your wings around yourself to ward off the chill that came without warning. And walk on, ready to enter conflict if that’s what it takes.
And that devil is still there, lurking in the shadows, waiting for the fruits of her labour to mature. You see her, I see her, and we keep her close. Better the devil you know.
The storm comes with such sudden ferocity it sweeps you off your feet. I am caught on the fringes, watching as you’re clutched in its eye and tossed around like so much refuse. I flap my wings to displace the air, hoping my movements will push you out the other side of the swirling vortex, that I give you the strength to fly out yourself.
And you do. Your aura burns a brighter white, and your wings flap harder, a last burst of strength, dignity your best friend. I glide over the evil winds, noting the devil deep inside the cone, its gleeful smile confirming what I always knew.
On the other side of the raging winds, you sit on a ground littered with shards of glass—barbs and spite and malice and a loathsome evil you will never possess—and I embrace your broken wings with one of mine, stroking away your tears with the other. I lift you, taking you away from the glass, the devil, the malicious wind, and deposit you on a desolate beach. The place you need to be.
Reflect. Heal. Listen to the soothing waves as they scurry up the sand, not worthy to plant a damp kiss on your feet. Close your eyes and soak in the sounds of the gulls as they circle above, the vultures too, and know that you are safe here. Those vultures will always be there, sometimes large and looming above your head, sometimes only specks in a future sky that will never always be vibrant blue but various shades of. The grey is gone now, for you have learned a valuable lesson. You gave too much, and the devil oozed inside the chinks of your armour. Never again will you allow the sky to darken. Never again will you ignore the faint breath of a sly wind.
I hover above you, always there, and wait for you to finish your reflection. Time is all you need. And I will wait as long as it takes. The actions of others do not matter now. The hurt diminishes with every breath you inhale, bringing new strength and the will to stand. Ah, you are ready. Ready for me to take your hand and fly, guiding you back to your road.
We land and face the storm, still raging, the devil still inside doing an insane, wicked dance, its figure a swarthy shadow through the wall of wind. And we smile, for behind us lies a better path, one filled with fresh air and sunshine, healed hearts and unbroken auras. We are strong, and that strength will keep us from falling.
Turning, we face that path together. Always have and always will. And I tell you I’m proud of you. That I love you. Will always keep you safe.
Walk forward, my angel. Embrace the light. Touch the world with only your fingertips and keep your palm over your heart.
But here you are, embracing the good weather, ready to press on and begin again.
Another angel appears in front of us, her aura tinged with black. I cock my head and ponder this, knowing in my heart, my gut, my bones, that she is in disguise. You, however, shift those feelings aside and welcome the angel into your ever-expanding heart. She dances, gambolling beside you as you traverse your road. And then a forked tongue appears, sliding out of the angel's mouth, covered with words of vitriol. That tongue lashes, striking you, shocking you senseless, and you see her for the first time. Her wings have disappeared, her halo replaced with wretched horns. Red infuses her previously white face, an ugliness that hurts the eyes and sears the heart. You have been betrayed. The angel, a mole in your camp.
I knew that was no angel, but your wholesome heart still found room. I am proud of you for that. You are a better angel than I.
The devil retreats into the sudden shadows either side of your road. Great, fog-like billows that creep across to join those on the other side. The sun dims, and clouds appear, grey and heavily pregnant with threatening rain. A sly wind comes, almost imperceptible, like a skeleton stashed in the far reaches of a dusty, long-forgotten closet. It is there but not doing any harm, so you plod on, knowing a storm is coming. Knowing you have battled through worse before. Knowing you will again.
A tempest swirls up ahead, the rumble of thunder reverberating through the ground and into your body. You wrap your wings around yourself to ward off the chill that came without warning. And walk on, ready to enter conflict if that’s what it takes.
And that devil is still there, lurking in the shadows, waiting for the fruits of her labour to mature. You see her, I see her, and we keep her close. Better the devil you know.
The storm comes with such sudden ferocity it sweeps you off your feet. I am caught on the fringes, watching as you’re clutched in its eye and tossed around like so much refuse. I flap my wings to displace the air, hoping my movements will push you out the other side of the swirling vortex, that I give you the strength to fly out yourself.
And you do. Your aura burns a brighter white, and your wings flap harder, a last burst of strength, dignity your best friend. I glide over the evil winds, noting the devil deep inside the cone, its gleeful smile confirming what I always knew.
On the other side of the raging winds, you sit on a ground littered with shards of glass—barbs and spite and malice and a loathsome evil you will never possess—and I embrace your broken wings with one of mine, stroking away your tears with the other. I lift you, taking you away from the glass, the devil, the malicious wind, and deposit you on a desolate beach. The place you need to be.
Reflect. Heal. Listen to the soothing waves as they scurry up the sand, not worthy to plant a damp kiss on your feet. Close your eyes and soak in the sounds of the gulls as they circle above, the vultures too, and know that you are safe here. Those vultures will always be there, sometimes large and looming above your head, sometimes only specks in a future sky that will never always be vibrant blue but various shades of. The grey is gone now, for you have learned a valuable lesson. You gave too much, and the devil oozed inside the chinks of your armour. Never again will you allow the sky to darken. Never again will you ignore the faint breath of a sly wind.
I hover above you, always there, and wait for you to finish your reflection. Time is all you need. And I will wait as long as it takes. The actions of others do not matter now. The hurt diminishes with every breath you inhale, bringing new strength and the will to stand. Ah, you are ready. Ready for me to take your hand and fly, guiding you back to your road.
We land and face the storm, still raging, the devil still inside doing an insane, wicked dance, its figure a swarthy shadow through the wall of wind. And we smile, for behind us lies a better path, one filled with fresh air and sunshine, healed hearts and unbroken auras. We are strong, and that strength will keep us from falling.
Turning, we face that path together. Always have and always will. And I tell you I’m proud of you. That I love you. Will always keep you safe.
Walk forward, my angel. Embrace the light. Touch the world with only your fingertips and keep your palm over your heart.
