Little Angel Girl

There once was a little angel who fell to earth
on a clap of thunder
she walked all her days
wondering why she felt broken asunder.

Little darling angel girl
she loved to sing with the birds
but someone (her mother) once told her
‘children should be seen and not heard’.

So as the years went by
her voice she learnt to withhold,
her wings quietly folded away
and she stopped being quite so bold.

Poor little angel girl,
many years she wandered the earth in a daze
she wondered why she felt lost, misplaced
why she felt she was going round and round in a maze.

One day the angel looked back on her life
and discovered she’d become a woman
yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that
something in her soul was still brewing.

To the hills, angel took herself
finding her wings through foot-flight
and she found herself howling and
crying to the moon at night.

Grandmother moon, angel cried
I have lost my path, my purpose, the drive in my days
and wise woman moon, she did reply
darling child, it is you only who knows your way.

The way of the fallen angel can be lonely,
she was fast to learn
and so many times
by the heat of this fire she had been burnt.

The grown-up angel had been burnt so much,
in fact
that come the end of summer
she was nought but ash.

It was during this period of angel dust that she heard a whisper,
a call that rode of the waves of the wind,
it wrapped itself around her and told her
it is now that your journey must begin.

“Find your voice little angel girl
we are the choir that surrounds you
don’t give others the chance
to burn you.

Come back to us, little angel
your voice is important
(they warned) if you let it whither
you’ll become more despondant.

Follow the whispers
of the wind through the hills
there you’ll find a circle
and women who brew potions, not pills.

you belong to the sound of wind
and the heat of the hearth
you were born with a song in your heart
you are bound to this earth.”

And so little angel,
over the hills she did climb
and one day she found
she’d created space
in her spine.

Sacred space,
it was holy
she found she was here to sing for love,
and love only.

Years she wandered the earth and
to the rivers she wept, she sang and she danced
and forever she said,
she’d kept herself a victim of circumstance.

Til one day
over mountain crest
she rose
and she went to the lookout
and saw
of rows (it was the maze).

and she laughed
and she cried
and she asked of the wind
what would my life have been like
if I hadn’t’ve tried?

and wind mother showed her
a life of bleakness and dark
a land that was barren
and a harvest so stark.

so angel, she stood at the top
and knew she’d reached the end
she looked to the heaven above
and found she was there all along
to sing with her friends.





God, O’ God, O’ God;
I want to go home.
O God, let me go home.
I long for home.

The Angel of Grief; William Wetmore.

Wahe guru wahe guru wahe guru wahe jio.