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FALLEN ANGEL
I was taking down the Christmas tree,
reaching round in back
I bumped the tree (and rocked my world).
That’s when I heard a crash.
The angel lay upon the tile
knocked down from way up high;
ceramic face, ceramic floor.
I thought I heard her cry.
All golden robes and golden wings,
faceless, up she gazed.
I looked at her…and held my breath,
looked in, and was amazed.
No moan, no gasp, no expletive
escaped my lips that day.
I saw a message on that floor
to guide me on my way.
She had no mouth to shout at me,
but I heard, Stop and hear!
Her shattered eyes beamed light and love,
I felt it, loud and clear.
She told me what I need to know:
Beware the little me!
Look with more than human sight
if I would truly see.
Be sure I hear with Spirit’s ears
the music for my dance.
Face and form are fragile things,
prone to happenstance.
I breathed a-ha… quietly.
I did not make a fuss.
But no one now can tell me that
God does not speak to us.
I lovingly repaired her head,
the old replaced with new,
and each day try to do the same
in all I think and do.
I thank my fallen angel-guide.
I thank my yuletide tree.
and daily live the lesson taught
that Christmastime to me.
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