I saw it just before I planned to leave,
an angel on the ground between the bench
that honors Daddy and the marker for my son.
I'd come to grieve the day alone, to sit and weep,
to pray and drink my coffee, read the paper,
just be close to what is left of him now 21 years later.
And then I saw it, lying on its back -- a fallen angel
moved by wind or clumsy groundsman, who could tell.
That phrase, though, struck me: fallen angel. Satan fell
from heaven's glory and it is said he pulled a third
of all the millions down to earth, which means the good
are more by far, but further from us. We run the risk
of judging wrongly, not just people but these
other-worldly wonders too. For who's to say a "fallen angel"
isn't just one resting there to feel the coolness of the grass,
enjoy the sun upon his face, a momentary break
before he once again does battle for us all?
(c) Ellen Gillette, 2021
