To speak in your own words in your own voice
How easy it sounds and how hard it is
When nothing that is yours is yours alone.
To walk singly yourself, who are thousands
Through all that make and makes you day by day.
To be and to be nothing, not to own
Not owned–but lightly on the sword edge keep
A dancer’s figure–that is the wind’s art
With you who are blood and water, wind and stone.
Sometimes it feels like the angels have abandoned us. How could the angels allow mass shootings and terrorism? How could they allow children to be homeless? Hungry? In America? Have we sent them away in disgust? Or have we just failed to turn to them? Do we just ignore the possibility of angels? How can they help us if we don’t ask?
We are indeed dancing on the sword’s edge, more alone that ever before, and yet we are not alone. We have winged guardians, guiding us through our lifetime. It is their nature not to draw attention to themselves. When we try to understand events in our lives, our angels can be a source of great strength. They reassure us that our lives have meaning and purpose, that we are not just a heap of molecules but spiritual companions of theirs, heavy with earth and gravity, in whom they have placed infinite trust.
Like good chess players, our angels anticipate our moves and help us to correct our “off shore” alliances (deals we make which are not really ethical in the truest sense). They remind us of who we are and who we want to become. They radiate love to us. When we become aware of our angel’s presence, we feel seen and seen-through.
They walk with us but they are free of the weight of Earth and we are free to ignore them completely. But they are there, ready to help when we ask for it, waiting with endless patience for human beings to turn to them, to seek the true light that enlightens every one of us.
Text by Carol Kelly
Painting by Irma Stropeni