Hush, Angel

For your wings you pay the price with pain.
Didn’t you already know?
It hurts to hit turbulence.
Oh, angel, forever is the blink of an eye.

Your halo was bound to rust faster than you
could ever fall when going down cashing,
burning,
tearing
your soul into fragments that gets sharpened
against your bitter mind.

The ground kissed your body at a fraction
of a second before the impact turned to a
vicious bite that tore away skin and flesh.
Yet you staggered to your feet somehow.

Was it your damaged, crooked feathers that
lifted you from the bed of dirt and stone?
How did your heart survive your beings
internal bleeding when it ought to drown?

But the extremities which spring from your
back is all that is left after you slipped,
fell,
tumbled
down your circle of light has corroded,
leaving you with only dust.

Now worried hearts wonder how anyone can
live with themselves after ripping an angel out
of the sky and curse it right down to the ground.
It’s an unforgivable crime to cut wings in flight.

But you were pretty when you fell, like a star
that plummets brightly shining is a beautiful sight.
And who can honestly cross their heart and say
that they don’t love a good tragedy at all?

Fear not angel, you are even more glorious
the further you get from the heavens.

There is no need to trouble the weary mind,
defeat isn’t to fall; it’s to never get up.

The truth is that diamonds are created from pressure.
You are not beaten by this, you are born.

The most beautiful ones are those who had to suffer.
Did you really not know?
Your flaws make you perfect.
Oh, angel, you’re immortal once you get through.

Copyright © 2008

Illustration © Ann Nilsson