The Unexpected Betrayal

The fan was moving,

slowly and creakingly.

There was a distinct smell from the previous night,

stale and sweaty.

Her eyes moved towards the right,

she could see the door closed,

and suddenly her eyes were shut,

experiencing throbbing pain all over her body,

her lips trembling with heart-wrenching sobs...

She coiled herself in a cocoon,

trying to hide herself from the painful memory...

Memory of that face,

of the touch of those hands all over her body,

her tears increasing with every passing moment.

The feeling of contempt,

which she so wanted to get rid off,

wouldn't evade her.

She remebered the time she'd spent with him,

during her childhood,

cradled in his arms,

having a soundless sleep over his stomach,

or his encouraging smile,

with that comforting pat over her shoulders...

Were they a facade,

Or maybe it's just a nightmare.

But it wasn't....

Her eyes now swollen with misery,self-disgust and fear.

She remebered the scene of the fateful night,

with it,that virile face,

thought of the fatherly love and caresses,

which turned into something she couldn't understand.

Perhaps,it was a part of growing,

perhaps,it was how things were supposed to be...

However,she wasn't convinced,

her insides a turmoil of over-flowing emotions,

and her body aching with incurable pain,

It was her soul which was destroyed and left barren.

After a few moments,

tired with her self-pity,

she looked towards the left,

and saw the sun rising,

its rays mystically illuminating the room,

and then smiled at herself,

realising the irony of the situation.

Her final smile again covered with hapless and piteous tears...

I have seen the angels cry!

I have thought that angels wore halos and wings of white,

but now I find they wear hats,

and black coats with yellow stripes.

And angels,in my mind,

wore long flowing gowns of white.

But now,I see dark pants and shirts,

and badges shining bright.

And angels always floated,

with bare feet above the ground.

Not true!For they wear steel toed boots,

and go where death is found.

Not all angels have smooth hands that look like porcelain.

Some angels have torn gloves,

and cuts and burns upon their skin.

And while I thought all angels glowed from heavens light,

I see an angel cutting steel,

his torch is shining bright,

and while these earthly angels passed buckets of debris,

the angels up in heaven,

looked down on bended knee.

So while the smoke continued to rise in the sky,

I watched the rescue workers weep,

I've seen the angels cry.

(This poem was taken from the website www.kissedbyanangel.com)