Posted in 2014, poetry, Writing

Angel of Stone

Amidst the ashes of fertile land,

And angel stands with arms wide,

An stares into this cruel destruction

With a face cold as stone, and

A heart as uncaring as this place.

 

She has but a single stone wing

Spread out in the air like a fan.

Her face shows the signs of great age,

But no tears ever leave her eyes,

And no cries escape her closed lips.

 

Her creator is gone, as is everyone.

She is simply the last remnant of

A land that has turned to ash,

Of people who are gone forever,

And live now up in heaven.

 

The language once spoken here

Has been long forgotten by

Those who dare explore these

Ash covered places. A great deal

Of time has passed since anyone

Has taken a single breath here.

 

She is the angel of stone without

The ability to fly with one wing.

She is a reminder of remembrance

To a people long since turned to ashes

And forgotten by the grey land.

 

 

 

 

 

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