Angel Tears

Here she stands, numb and shaken to her very core as she takes in the site before her.

The land is desolate and decaying. Blood is soaked in its soil with the pungent smell of death. The sinners and the innocent, all regardless of sex or age, their bodies are litter everywhere. It is here that there is no hope or happiness. All that remains is despair and sorrow. It is, in simple terms, a horrific scene. A picture of war, a war that is being fought with the best of intentions. And yet, there are many roads of ruin that have been paved by the best of intentions.

So why!? Why must this this be another one of those roads? A road that is taken often, too often. A road where there the only travelers are those who are wounded and dying, that have been attacked because such a reason as it being a time of war. Such a stupid reason. These travelers, these victims, have nothing to do with war for they are not soldiers. No, they are civilians. Men, women and children who don’t know how to fight or use a weapon.

And so with such knowledge, she takes action.

With wings spread wide, she takes flight. In the air she yells at them with all her might in hopes that not only that the people of the land before her can hear her, but the people of the land that have lead the attack, that have caused this destruction, will hear her too. And so she yells, she yells at them to at them to stop. To just stop and put down their weapons, to let go of their anger and hatred, to just stop hurting one another. She just keeps yelling, begging them to just stop till her voice is hoarse and her throat is sore.

But despite her efforts, her desperate cries fall on deaf ears. The people are so wrapped up in their own worlds, thinking of only themselves. They are too absorbed by their hate filled ignorance, thinking that they know best, that to help others they need to force their ‘help’ onto others whether they want it or not. In all their efforts to help, they are unknowingly paving a road to ruin.

The realization, the cold and dreadful realization, has her plummeting down. Her knees crash down onto the earth. She slumps broken, like a fragile porcelain doll that has had its strings viciously cut. This too much for her, this all too much for her. What good was she if she couldn’t get through to her charges, if she couldn't do her job? What good was she if couldn't stop her Lord's children from slaughtering and hurting each other?

In wake of this, she breaks down.

She hugs herself as she encases her wings around her form. She can feel her heart breaking, shattering from the the blow of  the carnage around her. Her very hope, her very soul, feels as if it is being torn asunder by the ugly truth before her. And the pain of all of this, the horrible pain that was throbbing through her being, is too much for her. So she screams, inspite of her hurting throat and over taxed voice, she screams. She screams in the wake of her pain as tears spill forth. She screams, a wretched sound that echoes with the sorrow and anger that has been caused by the negative actions of the people. People who are suppose to be the children of God.

If only, if only people didn’t put labels on each other. The labels of sex, age, orientation, race and religion. If people would just tear those labels away, strip each other of them to what lies underneath. That underneath it all, they all children of God. Children that all feel the same thing. People that can love others and be loved, cry when sad and smile when happy. People that all bruise when struck and bleed when cut. People, when come right down to it, are all the same, that they are all important and precious. If people did that, then angels wouldn’t have to shed tears.