Monday, March 13, 2023
The Angel is a poem I wrote for my mom when I was sixteen. Published years later on May 3, 2013 (ten years ago) here: http://lsspoetry.blogspot.com/2013_05_01_archive.html
Is this what I’m seeing?
An angel with delicate wings spread out as wide as the seas?
She did not speak but I could hear her singing loudly,
she smiled at me and it seemed to touch my soul.
If a smile could be measured in feet, hers would be too long to beat.
She could take away my pain day by day,
she could take me away from this never-ending story, but she didn’t.
She only fluttered her wings in the golden light surrounding us.
I wanted to cry but I was too scared to cry,
I wanted to hide but I wanted to be found,
all she did was wait as if she were waiting for the end of time.
So I waited too, I waited for God’s light to lift me up,
I waited for the angel to hug me tight, but she never moved.
Her beautiful feet never touched the ground,
her young face never turned around,
her graceful arms never lifted a pound.
She was still, as still as anything can get,
but her voice grew louder in the distance as the light grew brighter.
Then she stretched out her perfect arm and opened her hand,
extending her long delicate fingers, she spoke, “Take my hand.”
Her hand felt icy but hot, her voice sounded happy but mad,
her hair was still but blowing in the wind madly,
she was everything all put together.
Her singing stopped but her smile grew louder.
She lifted me up from where I sat and filled my heart with joy,
she took me away to Heaven, but was it really Heaven?
I didn’t feel hurt or tired anymore.
No runny nose made me sniffle, no cough made me gasp,
no sneeze made me wheeze, but my eyes filled with tears.
I didn’t know what was happening until the rain fell from my eyes,
and I could see that the angel holding my hand up in Heaven
was my mother holding my hand in bed.
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