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Words from an Angel

In the sweet, early hours of morning,
my first breath was liquid,
a gasping, choking thing, and then I cried,
loud and hard, red faced angel,
they wrapped me in blankets, rubbed
the life into my skin, until pink blotted
out the blue that I had been.

I could hear your thick sobbing,
you were defeated, tired, and I was
trying to learn how to open my eyes,
how to turn my head so that I could
reel myself back to you, back to where
I was comfortable and safe,
warm within your loving womb.

Now I see that I was never meant
to live into that first cold night.
Despite the tubes and busy nurses,
the doctors with their sterile hands,
I was dieing even before my birth,
the heavenly clock ticking down
the minutes until I was home.

Still, mother, I want you to know,
that now I can see more clearly
than earthly eyes would ever allow.
I can hear the songs of a thousand birds
all at once, and I can feel now,
the love that brought you to my side,
my first angel, watching my last breath.

I am with you now, in the quiet hours
before dawn breaks, when you sit and
plead with that faded image,
of winged mother cradling child,
to bring me back,
but mother, I am that child,
cradled forever
beneath your lofty wings,
your golden face shining.

Learn more about this author, Sarah Williams.
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