She knelt upon the stone.
Heavenborn, but wingless,
the uncrowned Angel rests
in place, Fallen. The throne
of Heaven mourns her death
and sends her home, beneath
the worms, earth, and wreaths.
Death’s cheek upon her breast.
Finally, she is crowned,
unmoving queen, Angel’s
Rest. To the ground, she fell,
where silent peace, she found,
and finally, she bowed.
The Angel wept. Cold touch,
cold fingers. Death looked up,
her cold hand on his brow.
©️ Obol, 2019.
