Sofia. The walk.

Through the years she walked finding solace where she could, changing with the world, yet knowing more than it would ever know.  Sofia spent years wondering alone with only animals and the stars to keep her company. She saw man as a race come into being and grow, she swam through the weeks of the great flood and watched the dove carry the the olive branch to the ark.

Sofia was lonely she never met one of her own, she saw Moss receive the ten commandments and wondered to herself if man could adhere to them.

Then one day she could smell one of her own  she ran she missed her wings but she could cover continents in hours .
Sofia revelled in the scent she knew it she loved it.

It was Gabriel and he was in the town of Nazareth visiting a young virgin to implant the seed of the one.

The warmth, the love she felt was amazing. Sofia waited in the alley below the young virgin’s window listening. Then when Gabriel left the young girl wondering what had happened to her, Sofia approached him.  Silently she leant out and touched him and when he turned to face her she was shocked by the look in his eyes.  It was strange there was  grief, pity and fear “Gabriel” she said in not much more than a whisper “Brother , brother touch me please” Gabriel spoke with no emotion “I cannot touch you you have fallen from grace you may not look upon my face.” Weeping now she reached out and touched his arm. To her horror and dismay he withdrew his arm like lightening and produced his flaming sword.

Shrinking back she could not believe her eyes the pain she was experiencing was raw and new to her, it was tearing  at her insides like a cancer. Glancing once more at Gabriel she turned and slipped away feeling dirty inside and out!

Gabriel watched her leave , beaten broken head bowed. He shook his beautiful head then as he turned to go he heard Sofia ask “What about forgiveness” hesitating he turned back once more to see her slinking off into the shadows….. something hurt his eyes it was a burning he moved his hand to rub his eyes to find that they were leaking water??

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sofia was hurt deeply she found her grief all consuming,she hid in the shadows for days but she decided she was going to watch this young virgin in whom the One has entrusted such an important seed.

Gently she shadowed the young girl helped her take the sticks and stones and words that came her way, she even intervened with the man who was to be her husband. Sofia whispered in his ear that she was a good girl and that she had indeed been visited by a messenger of the the One, hard to believe as that was, it was true!

She followed them to Bethlehem  and ensured that they had somewhere to stay. Sofia had to smile at how easily she was now finding getting inside the human mind and suggesting her will to them. The air was full of angels at every turn she could smell and feel her beloved kindred, sadly though they all ignored or even worse denied her. Stubborn though she stayed with the young couple doing her best to help them.

Finally when the child was born Sofia sat outside the stable weeping the angels had refused her entry she could not defy them she had not the strength. The warmth she was being denied was too much pain, more than she could bear, as she rose to leave the young woman asked why Sofia could not see the child she thought he was to save all. There was no answer and so the woman rose and slowly walked out into the shadows towards Sofia.

The warmth and the love Sofia had not dared to think of was walking towards her. The hope she received from the child was more that she had ever imagined . She looked into the eyes of the young mother and said” thank you”.

images from Pixabay.

Sofia: How it all Began

Sofia

It was dark not the dark we know but deep pitch eye searingly black. It smelt too, it flew up her nostrils and made her eyes water and burned her throat.

All around there were flames and the sound was indescribable. Wailing from every direction, deafening wailing full of pain, grief, loss and hopelessness………… Sofia cringed in a ditch covered in mud, her wings in tatters blood running down her hair and across her face. Fear, she felt fear she did not know what it was yet though. Her stomach ached, again she put her hand between her legs and found blood, “what is this she asked” inside her head. “It is a curse” the voice said,” it is the cycle that women bear. Every month they make an egg if it is not fertilized they loose it.” Sofia’s heart leapt ..”then I can have a child” the voice laughed it was almost cruel “No you may not bear a child you forgo that right” A strange feeling came her.

Pain was what she felt it ripped at her guts and her womb , it throbbed at her bleeding fingertips and toes, her head hurt, her brain was spinning . Something else now a burning in her eyes and wetness on her cheeks, she had seen this before it was another human thing, tears. Tears OH! but there was pain in those and they fell freely burning her face.

Blinded by tears she ripped at her wings, she screamed in agony as she tore them from her back flesh, sinew rent reluctant to leave her back they caused  much damage in their passing . Wet with blood and tears, in shock and agony she screamed at the black emptiness around her “What now?” Thunder above her head and lightening hitting the ground just at her side.  Fear shook her whole body at once she felt water and mess running down her legs……..  She new what this was and she was appalled and a new feeling to her, embarrassment

Later, dirty, wet and shivering  she huddled in the ditch cradling her blooded wings she tried to understand what was happening. The pain of her body was over shadowed by the pain in her soul, “What now?” she screamed again.  This time the voice did answer. “You shall walk in the realm of mankind, you shall suffer and strive as mankind does, you shall feel all they feel but more . You shall not look on the One’s face until you have atoned for you sin. You have fallen from grace .” Then the voice was gone, for the first time she was alone no voice, no face just silence.

How long she stayed there is did not know it could of been hours it could of been aeons. Shivering and bleeding she stayed still until the agonised screams and smell of burning finally was stopped. When she emerged from her hiding place there was no evidence of the battle that had raged day and night. Where were her kindred , was she alone .

Sofia folded and buried her wings, she dug the hole with her bare hands. She walked until she found a stream she washed her hair and her body, how she wished she could wash her soul and her aching mind. This done she walked not knowing what was to happen to her, would she meet more of her kind or would she just have to toil for ever in the realm of men…

Images from Pixabay

The Fallen Angel

image from Pixabay

Landing naked in the gutter she laid still not a sound did she utter.

The pain she felt she did not understand

For it was new to her and not part of God’s plan.

Every inch of her body hurt she was cut, bruised and covered in dirt.

She had never before left heaven’s gate she was scared now of what was to be her fate.

Laying there broken, naked and dirty  she wanted to wash  she,

Had nothing to hide her shame

And she shivered as blood ran down her tiny frame.

Her eyes began to sting as tears welled up, she could not understand a thing.

Suddenly a gentle hand picked her up, she was scared, rigid and

Every part of her body racked with pain.

She was never more beautiful then at this moment in this vulnerable state,

She wondered again what was to be  her fate.

He could not believe his eyes  this startled broken creature lying

In his hand all things known to him defies.

This broken angel in his hand , could he help her or was it out of his command.

Gently now he scooped her up she winced and he jumped

Nearly dropping her back into the gutter.

Breathing deep he steadies  his hand he is determined not

To damage a lock of her hair,  no, not even a strand.

He wanted to keep her,to mend her broken body. Why had he found her, was there a plan?

What ever  he decided to do the best he can.

Taking  a tissue from his pocket  he covered her nakedness, the look in her eyes was pain and thankfulness. H

He took her home and gently bathed her skin.

He whispered so as not to scare her. He asked how and from whence she had come

She said  he could not understand and so she could not tell,apart from the fact

That there was a battle and she had seen view from the gates of hell.

He spent days tending her and at her request he prayed for her. He kept her in a shoe box.

His dog investigated her  but the dog was gentle with her and let her nestle in it’s fur.

Finally she was healed and told him she must leave  she had to make her way back to heaven and that there was no need for him to grieve.

image from Pixabay

She would always watch over him and help him in any hour of need. She told him he had shown her such care and love , that  he had tended to her even ignoring his own need.

So on a moonlit  night he drove out  to the beach he sat and talked with her until dawn . With  tears she told him she could not stay no matter how much he beseeched

Finally as the sun was rising in the  sky he gently kissed the angel and watched her as heavenward she did fly. Remember she called down to him I shall always  be grateful and we shall meet again when you die

Image from Pixabay

Fallen Angel

My wings  are clipped  my feet are tied.

I need to scream, but I can not cry.

I need to run I need to hide,

Afraid  to stay , too tired  to fly

Alone  under a moon lit sky.

Can I run, can I hide,

Can I beat this pain inside

Will it  end, will I be  no more

Will I find  the key to the locked door.

Broken angel  that is  me

No longer blessed no longer free.

Shackled so harshly tied down

Lost  to all, now bound to the ground.

Cinqku. Fallen Angel.

Fallen

Lost angel

Of broken dreams

Loosing your wings yet still

Beloved.

**********

A cinqku must always have 5 lines and a perfect seventeen-syllable count. The lines typically follow a 2,3,4,6,2 format. There is no title requirement on the second line. As for syntax and diction styles, it follows the free Tanka style originally. There are no metric requirements for a cinqku poem. Additionally, the final line must contain a cinquain or kireji turn for emphasis.

Follow me on Twitter

Follow Us

Follow Us

Follow Us

Follow Us

Ivor.Plumber/Poet

An Old Plumber, An Ex-Carer, An Amateur Poet, Words From The Heart

Trent's World (the Blog)

Random Ramblings and Reviews from Trent P. McDonald

Marsha Ingrao - Always Write

Promoting Hobby Blogging

Chel Owens

A Wife, My Verse, and Every Little Thing

Sacred SoulSongs

Sacred Paths and Detours

Mr. Ohh!'s Sideways View

For those of you who aren't me...and I've noticed a surprisingly large number of people who aren't.

The Small Dog

Life from the Tail End

USUAL MUTTWITS

DOG TAILS by ZoZo and Jools

kimbladeswriting

poetry and short stories

Ben Naga

Gifts from the Musey Lady and Me. "Laissez-moi vous raconter ma vraie histoire."

About the Jez of It

Poetry, stories and strange odds and ends from the desk of a writer

The Sound of One Hand Typing

Music, Musings, Memoir, and Madness

"LIFE" ( You like it, I love it! )

"LOVE"-Keeping it real, and keeping it simple!

Our Eyes Open

Come along on an adventure with us!

Diary of a Dublin Housewife

Diary of a Dublin Housewife

J-Dubs Grin and Bear It

As Always, More to Come

Smorgasbord Blog Magazine

Blog magazine for lovers of health, food, books, music, humour and life in general

Colline's Blog

a potpourri of thoughts and experiences

pensitivity101

An onion has many layers. So have I!

lynz real cooking

lynz real life

Darswords

Musings about Havenverse

From Cave Walls

The Journey Home

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

Echoes of Life, Love and Laughter

like mercury colliding...

...moments of unexpected clarity

G-Bears Blog

Real Life - Hard Facts !

All in a Day's Breath

Art, Love of Life, Philosophy, Writing, Spirituality

Kevin Parish

Poetry, lyrics and other words...

Claire Ladds

Crime and dark fiction author

adamdixonfiction

Short stories from a fiction addict

Write to Inspire

Lance Greenfield - Night Writer