Walking in the shadows, as I am apt to do, I come across some unusual things now and then. But, nothing so rare as the discovery I stumbled onto last week. Stalking through life in my usual manner, imagine my surprise when I came across, of all things, an angel lying in my path.
She lay there, bruised and battered, more on the inside than outside. Her body was dusty and spent, exhaustion showed in her every fiber. One leg was turned beneath her and her wings were in sad repair. One wing was broken and the feathers on both were wilted and frayed.
As I approached her, she kept her eyes downcast and her head hung with what was part exhaustion and part shame. She was dirty, dusty and her clothing was in tattered disarray. She was everything you would NOT expect an angel to be, but angel she was and of that there was no doubt.
Walking up to her, my eyes drank in every inch of her. Her lithe body was unimpressive, bundled in the flowing white garments lying crumpled around her and camouflaging her form. Exactly how she had come to be here, I had no idea. But, I cared not why she was here, just that she WAS here.
She was an earth-bound angel, she may have come from heaven at one time, but for whatever reason she was now firmly bound to the earth. She was lost, alone and clearly frightened, though her posture showed a defiant stiffness that knew no fear.
Standing before her, I waited patiently for her to look up at me. I didn't wish to ruin the magick of the moment and feared that anything sudden I might do would send her soaring off into the clouds or scampering into the brush.
"Its OK, little one." I spoke quietly. "You have nothing to fear from me."
Still, her head hung limp and her reddish brown hair clung protectively to her face. Slowly she began to move. Her head tilted to the side and I glimpsed a view of her spectacular beauty, so startling it near took my breath away. As her head lifted more, I felt my eyes drawn to the soft brown abyss in each of her eyes.
"A man could drown in those deep pools of brown."
I heard my voice speak in a stuttering sort of stammer, but I am still not certain if I actually spoke out loud or if the words merely echoed in my mind.
She was exquisite. There really isn't anything else to say. I pride myself in my ability to use words, but this description was beyond means of conveying in mere mortal words. Torn, limp and battered, she was still of such phenomenal beauty and grace that just imagining her leaves me speechless.
"Can you speak?" I heard my hoarse voice whisper.
She gazed up at me with an innocence so pure it made me blush. I feared she could read as much of me as I was reading of her. Giant bottomless pits of brown stared up at me, and she shook her head side to side in what I could only assume was either an answer in the negative or a sign of non-comprehension.
I knelt slowly by her, moving with easy and reassuring movements. I swallowed hard, for as I neared her I could hear something like music, it surrounded her much like an aura, it encompassed her. She seemed neither aware of it, nor why I seemed so taken aback by it.
She didn't pull away as I expected. I could see comprehension in her eyes, but she seemed to fear me not at all. I am not a pure person. I am not even sure I AM a person. In fact, at times I wonder just exactly what it is that I AM. I know I am dark, violent at times and that I am w