Incarnation

Blades crack, sinews pull, a pinion forces a tear creating space for the next, and the next, and all that come after. Torso drops forward to support the transformation. The invisible unfolding is swift. Arching upright, wings expand to full. The familiar weight rests easy, feels good, is a comfortable carry.

These are not strap-on, costume feathers for fun or show. They go entirely unnoticed, moving easily through busy streets, fitting comfortably on crowded subways and planes, in tiny elevators and hospital rooms with humming machines, blinking lights, ambient exterior noise, blurring days. There is nowhere they don’t or won’t go.

They enter cavernous silences bringing offerings of what is needed–a gentle touch, an unexpected smile, a compassionate heart, unconditional love made easy. They bring the hands and hearts that treat the sick, that help those stuck in the snow, that pamper with haircuts and massages, tend and comfort the children, feed the hungry, adore the animals. Their ears patiently listen; their hearts make soft landing for vented anger and fill the cup with laughter on days that teeter on the edge of sorrow. It takes but a sliver of grace inserted in a gaping ache.

So effortless and unconscious the alteration, sometimes you forget who you are, that you joyfully made the promise when you signed the covenant to come. Yes, there are the troubled days in between, transformation stunted or thwarted, leaving in your wake misfired mercy and smoky, ruffled plumes. But for the most you bring the peace, hoist the courage, set things right for at least one in some significant way. You are the guardian and incarnation of the angel you shelter.