"Hollywood Angel"
copyright by Christopher Clements
Immigrant to Planet Earth
A snake hisses in the garden.
An angel falls fluffy cloud through fluffy cloud.
(Angels can fall like anyone else.)
She could save herself and fly heavenward.
Back to streets of gold transparent as glass, city walls of jasper
foundation of sapphires, emeralds, and topaz.
Her heavenly home, a haven of love and peace
where friends and families reunite, the Promised Land of psalms
and prophets, no tears, no sadness, perfect in every way.
Therein lies the problem. She craves
to blaze tense with excitement. To be needed like rain after drought.
In heaven, she's just one more perfect being singing hosannas.
That's why she edged out behind St. Peter
as others entered the pearly gates.
That's why she gave her halo the slip.
Older angels work earth delivering messages, dispelling disbelief
bolstering devotion, serving dutifully. But who knows how long
eternity will last?
Her heart fills with heaviness. She's confused
unaware she is subject to earth's gravity.
She falls faster and faster.
Already she misses the music
the singing, the dancing
leaping from star to star.
A crimson cardinal zooms past at eye level
chased by a devilish blue jay. The sweet
scent of pine rising from below baffles her.
So much to learn
and no Angel Handbook to guide her.
Let's hope she remembers how to pray.
Copyright Pam Wynn
