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The Angel and the Blade



My niece, Amelia, is having an operation at Little Rock Children's Hospital tomorrow. 
Please keep her in your thoughts...

She found them there, walking beside her, eager to breathe Love into her lungs, kiss her beauty with their winged affection that she might arrive back home when needed.

I see the tears welling up in the spirit’s eyes like a downpour that begins with expectation and ends after everything’s washed away and we stand with jaws drenched in prayer.

She floats in the midst of our yearning, among our breathing, uneasy affections, the prayer of the communal spirit, of Love’s divine union with creation.

I’m not there. I’m miles away, yet I sense her, her fragile fingers moving under the knife as the blade turns its edge into goodness with a smoothness calling for her to return.

(In the flesh she’s not had enough time.)

The spirit’s are gathered with their music, with an army of angels awaiting the call to offer the large Love grown down into their wings.

She found them there, walking beside her, eager to breathe Love into her lungs, kiss her beauty with their winged affection that she might arrive back home when needed.


© 2011 by mark prime
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