Two Angels

I carried sandals; you carried a robe. A simple one, washed linen
(like the graveclothes he wore when we arrived).  

Woven into dark thick air was vinegar. And blood. And it was cold and chaos
and quiet except a muttering beyond the stone
(some Latin insults, some whispering insects). I wanted to weep. 

Asleep?

No. Dead.

We watched. And timeless hours passed
(his body firm, blood dried in his hair, the music of his heart now still).
I couldn’t say a word. You looked at me.  

I saw then why he chose us. Both of us short. Short angels suit low spaces
and this the holiest of holy places.
No room here for wings (or footstools for the King). 

Then in the darkest moment came a Breath
and there was Light! 

You cheered; I pushed aside the stone. Those frightened soldiers fled!
New air rushed in (the almond air of Spring).
We worshipped, laughed and danced. 

Then, stooping low, I tied my Master’s sandals.
And Jesus thanked me, took his graveclothes, folded them and smiled
and stamped his heel.
The ground beneath us shook. 

By Looking, Cave, Nature, Cave Entrance, Caves Output
Image Pixabay

(c) Lucy Marfleet, free to use if you credit me.

One thought on “Two Angels

  1. I like the right balance of forward motion and description. It is difficult to get this right but here it looks effortlless I like the paradoxical dea of time stopping at the same time as moving. It made me think of The Cloud of Unknowing. ‘All shall be well and all shall be well and all manner of things shall be well.’ I look forward to reading more of your work. Please let me know when you post again. Best regards and good luck with your writing.

    Like

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