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If I were to love one person.

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Do you know what it's like
to live with an Angel who can't take flight?
He stands tall, he is divinity,
but he knows, beyond that, that he has fallen from a great height.
His wings are broken,
but more importantly, his pride is broken.
He's been banned from Heaven
for wanting too much,
having too much self assurance.
Do you understand what it is to live
with a man who's self assurance
has been denied by the gods?
He is nothing, he is worse
than nothing.
He is average.
He sulks around all day,
performing menial tasks,
sitting in silence, refusing to think, remember what he once was.
He rubs his shoulders,
complaining of severe pain,
even insists on seeing doctor upon doctor,
in denial of the broken wings
so obviously bringing the permanent ache.
He is inadequate, worse,
he is unnecessary.
He, at times,
swells up his chest with air,
and bellows a divine command,
only to be reminded by the tittering villagers
that he does not matter,
his words do not matter,
and more importantly,
he is reminded of his humanity.
He sees the world,
he takes in all and he makes judgment on those before him.
But his judgments do not matter.
He is a man of inaction.
Once, he saw the gods and Angels soaring beside him,
and thought to himself,
“I know the divine secrets of the world
that they cannot grasp. I
am a force of nature. I
can change the ways of the world.”
But he was denied,
he was broken,
and he has become invisible to both gods and Man.

I can see the bloodstained wings,
the proof of him, but whenever I desire to cleanse them,
coming closer with a warm washcloth,
he hides them behind his back,
wincing in pain,
preferring to be mortal.



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