An Angel Sat Crying

Walking alone
Seeking answers and a sunlit day
Rain mixing with tears
As both run down my cheeks
Seeming to be
In a race away from my sadness

The gloomy day
So appropriate to my
Feelings of hopelessness,
and Inadequacy

hoping to find something
Though I knew not what it was
An answer maybe?
But what truly, was the question?

The park
in which I was walking
Was desolate and abandoned
No leaves to blow
Had there been wind to blow them
No animals to feed
Had I crumbs to feed them
And no one to tell about the things
I did not see

Then, I saw Her
Huddled in a semi-fetal position
Feathered wings drooped around Her
Crouching on a pedestal
Where the shattered statue behind Her
Used to rest

I approached
Brushing Her wing aside gently
To inquire as to
Her melancholy posture

She looked up, glassy eyed
And wiped gently with Her thumb
From corner to corner across
The lower lid of my eye

I spoke softly
Hoping to ease Her soul
I spoke calmly
Hoping to relax Her mind
And I asked while
Hoping She’d say what I hoped She’d say

“Angel,” said I,”shouldn’t you be smiling?”

Her sobbing paused
As She collected Herself
The best that She could
Then, speaking weakly in a broken tone, She asked,
“what’s there to smile about?”

“Should I,” said She, “smile about Hate?”
“Or war?
Or maybe famine?
How about greed, gluttony, or lust?
Persecution, poverty, or perhaps
Abuse, rape or murder?
Disbelief, disease, or depression?
Lack of morals or lack of education?
Maybe crime?
Or its lack of punishment?

“Tell me,” said She, “what should I smile about?”

“Love,” said I.

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