14 Dec 2004

Broken Angel

I once met a broken angel.
His soul was like
infinitely intricate glass
fractured in one
brute stroke to the right
of his wing. It was a wound
he could have only
inflicted on himself, for
God makes all such
celestial beings invulnerable
from without. When I
spoke to him, I was strangely
not afraid — quite
comfortable, in fact.
When I remarked upon
something I noticed, he
took offense, which only
made it hit home the more:
he was just like a human being.
And I thought, that
must be right: we the
earthly bound are like
broken angels, broken at the wings,
a soul of infinitely
intricate glass, fractured
by our desire to want more
than it can handle.
The angel was not fallen,
just somewhat wayward,
but being from above,
his wounds had struck him harder,
not being used to such gravity
like we. There was still
beauty there, and the scar
I could easily see past:
like us, the sadness in the eyes
of regrets, of chances
slipped away, now only memory.

posted by John H. Doe @ 12:26 am

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