Interview with an Angel: Peace and Tears

Her wings are touched with white and grey today, like fall’s sky or a sad heart. She smiles, feeling the peace of her god. She is sad. Her wings ruffle in a cool wind, leaves rustling. She bends her neck in story and prayer, mouth whispering the rhythm of internal poetry.

Today, the world is waking. The eyes are fluttering and the hearts beating quicker, the fear of seeing and the calm realization that I am more. We are more. We are whole. We are not alone.

She smiles, feeling this ripple of hope and breath, this intake of love. The first step of healing is recognizing the injury. Then closing your eyes against the pain.

Then breathing. Then opening them again, to find a hand to hold, a hand that comforts both you and your companion, your breath uneven and childlike in fear and wonder and joy. Then stepping forward. And fixing it.

The world, my friend. Do you see it? She whispers, smiling and connecting her eyes to my soul, a jolt of sun through clouds.

Do you see the emptiness and joy, the lessons and hope? Do you see our God, our love, our breath of comfort?

See it. Choose it. Want it.

Want love, she smiles, laughing, looking away. It’s surprisingly hard to do, sometimes. The addiction of drama and surreal existential horror is real. I want to be lost, I want to be alone, I want to be afraid.

Why?

I don’t know.

I don’t know.

Her wings whisper as she fidgets, thinking, legs crossed for the interview. She scrunches her nose and looks past the walls of my world. Do you see it?

She shakes her head, sad, tears pricking our eyes. Maybe you can’t. I hope you can, little one. I miss you. Come back to the flock. Come back. You can always come back. We are always with you.

Her eyes, green and gold and bottomless. She blinks, gets up, smooths her skirt, and I feel dazed. She glows, softly, lightly, like early morning sunshine. I don’t know if she notices or cares.

Listen. Okay?

Listen.

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Enjoy your day, friend.

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