Dark Angel
Daily Photo
In a crisis of faith at nineteen, calling out to God, I heard no response and thought my angels not just gone but never been.
Yesterday, as I looked across the wide valley, I saw her, a dark angel. For a moment against the sky, she hovered, strumming one solitary cry against the harp of her beak. While I watched, foolish mouth agape, she melted into clouds leaving nothing but a sense of loss. And then a realization—my angels have another shape.
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