the angels hold my truth

Who are we without the ones we loved and without the ones we’ve lost?

What angels fly into our path, and what angels do we let fly into our path? Who do we call upon, who do we listen to when it all goes dark?

Who do you reach for? Who do you reach out to?

What can any of it mean? Has it all happened already? Has the world stopped? Have we all died and are these the sins we are paying for?

Did you see the thunder and wind blow in? I tried to write something, but it reminded me too much of the truth. That’s why we failed, you told me. I saw right through and you got scared.

But I got scared, too. With the casket and the roses. And you did, too. Sitting in the aisle, watching the third, the fourth, the fifth.

How does a child react to this?

I am the same, I haven’t changed. But you look disappointed. As if I was to harden. As if I was supposed to let one truth bury me.

But I die over and over and over again.

That is my secret, that is my truth.

When I let no one hear me, that is when I am the loudest. And that is when I am the softest. It isn’t you next to me.

It is the angels.