Angels can’t love

I walk into the shop I’ve been to many times before.

But now I am someone else.

I see them in there.

Those who come from the past.

They look different.

They see me.

Eyes opening wide.

They see me.

They see that I am beautiful.

More beautiful than before.

They walk over to me.

They want to be close to me.

Arms reaching for me.

That is when I see him.

Something passes between us.

A movement.

But he is not the one to protect me

when the war comes.

When the machine guns come.

Someone else steps in front of me.

I wait for death.

But it doesn’t come.

I see him again.

He is kneeling down.

Someone points a gun at me.

I start crying.

Wings slowly grow

from his shoulder blades.

The soldiers smile and nod their heads.

“Finally,” they say.

“That is what it took.”

They lay down their guns.

I am still crying.

I am safe.

But I am not loved.

Angels can’t love humans.

Not the way we need to be loved.

Exclusively. Exceptionally.

As though we were the only one

needing to be loved

by them.

*This is actually a dream I had while sleeping.

Flightless Angels

We are all flightless angels made to live out our lives on the ground.

Many of us spend a lifetime searching for our wings,

not quite comprehending how else to satisfy our inherent instinct

for ascension.

Be the Wind that carries You

Close your eyes
and be the bird
upon the wind
stretch your wings
and be the wind
that carries you

Close your eyes
and be the air
that moves the wind
abandon your boundaries
and be the breath
that births the being