| The Angel’s Last Step |
I am an angel
Walking on eggshells—
Walking on diamonds.
And when I look down, I can see
Myself multiplied in their sparkling faces.
If I spread my wings, will I fly?
Hatchlings fly when they leave the nest
And it isn’t long before they forget their humble beginnings.
They know they can only shoot for the stars.
But so too do traitors fly.
They gallop and stumble and flounder and leap and never
Well, maybe once.
If they’re caught.
But will I look back?
If I spread my wings and fly now, will I look back?
I am beset by a terrible choice,
And faces of agony multiply in shining glory.
I will follow the faces, for
They love me not for who I am, but for
Who I could be.
So I raise my wings and lift off,
And I know they are all watching.
As I wonder.
I am no hatchling, so I suppose I can only be
Only I do not stumble.
I leap and soar.
And I do not look back.
Not even once.
. . .