A TALE OF TWO ANGELS

By Lynne Johnson

Two angels…each sat upon my weary shoulders

Whispering in my ears

One with a seemingly passive aura, 

Neither moving nor bending to either way

Letting his past 

Wash over him like a thick, slow cloud

Carrying him down the dark stairs to silence

The other charged forward like a phoenix, rising up and 

Out of the flames, time and time again before the fire was too hot to be contained

One… quiet, patterned, reserved, accepting, cautious, waiting… frightened

The other pushing, pulling, manipulating and tearing at the flesh of sickness..frightened 

Two angels I held up beside me

Listening to their whispers and their shouting

Hoping to be strong enough to endure the loss…

as they slipped away like grains of sand through my yearning, longing, outstretched hands…

Both…rose up and left the earth in a swirl of air

Loved beyond compare

Nothing any of us would do could help to keep them here

We thought we would be able to ward off the devil who was constantly scratching at the

surface with his draining, weary, gripping contagion, but…who do we think we are? 

We are nothing. 

We are only left with the ashes of their brilliant, blazing, glorious, burning fires.

In loving memory of

Paul R. Johnson June 28, 1947 ~ November 12, 2019 (age 72)

Nancy Girard February 19, 1959 ~ August 11, 2020 (age 61)

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