Featured Image: Paulo Nicolello
They tell us to hold on
As if that ever stopped homes from washing away
From a rushing flood
Or stopped a plane
From crashing down to Earth
In a blaze of fire and fear.
But our wings were sawed-off
And we fell from the high Heavens
Not in a flurry of bright lights
And loud trumpets announcing our downfall.
No, we fell free falling head first
So silently no one even noticed
When we were gone.
Kicked out so swift and brutally
Even we lost our voices
And forgot to scream.
As if God took our voices
As well as our wings.
But they call us Fallen Angels
Gaping and gasping
When they see the two bloody stumps
That used to be glorious wings.
As if there is beauty in our unspeakable sadness
Watching as if we were shattered diamonds in the light
Shining even while broken
So broken we pique their curiosity
And become muses where we are nothing
But miserable souls
Wandering wide-eyed and shell shocked
Waiting for God to finally reach His hand down
Parting the dark storm clouds
And lightning threatening to strike us down
To lift us up once again
And take us home
Bruised and damaged that we are,
They call Former Angels.