angel2...a sort of a narrative poem. one of a collection

maninamousesuit

Two angels flew together
One blind, one wounded.
He helped her to fly high and sang her sad songs.
She told him tales of mountains blue and forests of green that passed as a blur beneath them.
Said he. “ I will always hold you in my arms and lift you to great heights.”
Said She. “I will always paint pictures on the canvas of your mind so that you can see the world as I perceive it.”
And it was enough.
He had not been born blind but was made so by the wounds the world had given him and deep in his heart there was one wound that had never healed.
One day in a storm this wound opened up and the years of hidden pain exploded in his heart, and in his anguish his wings folded about him like a shroud and supported them no longer. His arms fell limp to his sides and he made to fall.
She took the strain.
Through the night she alone carried them both through clouds of hail as he howled his pain at the thunder. Even speech left him as his grief made animal of him.
A dawn rose, The tears stopped and his grief-scoured heart shone like a silver chalice polished by the movement of wind-blown sand.
He wiped his eyes and saw!
He saw her take both of their weights without effort.
“You are healed!” He cried.
And she was.
“You can see!” She cried.
And he could.
Two angels, free of pain and hurt flew side by side making arabesques and patterns in the sky, the sun glinting off their wide wings as the world unrolled like a scroll beneath them.
It was more than enough!