The Time I Felt the Angels Cry

 

 

 

Featured art by Hannah Lemholt. Click title image to visit her studio

 

 

 

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Yiruma “River Flows In You”

 

 

 

 

… and every time the sky cracks open
Angels shed their tears
To wash away the hopscotch trails of yesteryear

 

Nothing ever grows here
Neither rhyme nor reason to the symphony composed here
Dead leaves scattered on the ground and frowning willows all around
Tombstones looking set to crumble into ashes, then to dust
Perhaps that’s why the cemetery’s my favorite place to come

 

I find it so peaceful, serene
For here among the grateful dead, I’m never less than seen
Like to think myself perceptive, this proves curse and blessing
Some of us prefer to know the names of those we give addresses to
I refer to essence as it tends to offer clue
As to who precisely I am lending air time to

 

Voices all around me
Some are whispers, others scream
Certain souls are tortured, have been faltering for centuries
Desperate for closure to a chapter left wide open
Spirits of the broken, hoping fix will come eventually

 

… and every time the sky cracks open
Angels shed their tears
To wash away the hopscotch trails of yesteryear

 

Perched upon the splintered bough of aged oak undressed of gown
Is a solitary raven
Not craven, this bird prays for souls undeparted
Through unspoken symphony, its stare unbroken principally to intervene on sole behalf of all those broken-hearted
Every dusk it settles, I then duck behind the nettles and observe as, one by one, each soul releases
Whether to a better place
Depends on chosen thesis

 

It is matter of both life and death
To catch and release final breath
To live within our means to any less than no clear end then sends the message that we’re second guessing absolute beginnings
Bluffing birthright until such a time as nothing much is left
Flowers pressed within the scrapbook, captured there bereft of blessed endings

 

Ravens eye parading ink
Inscribing names on tombstones blinkered
Ivy climbing
Pale white lilies crying tears of crimson
Thriving

 

… and every time the sky cracks open
Angels shed their tears
To wash away the hopscotch trails of yesteryear

 

Tombstones look delectable in coat of ashes, flecked in dust
Perhaps that’s why the cemetery’s my favorite place to come
Perhaps that’s why the ravens cry
Denotes the tears of those who only ever wept in secret
Wish to see them
One time
Shed tear of delight for each soul which takes flight

 

… and every time the sky cracks open
The angel of the baptized sheds her ever-blessed tears
To watch small children skip prevailing hopscotch trails of yesteryear

 

 

 

 

Click here to read “The Time I Saw a Raven Cry”

 

 

 

© Copyright: greykeeper ™ Chapel Black ™

 

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