Snow Angels

When I was a child I poked and made fun of the girls.  Told ’em they had the cooties, held bugs up close until they hurled.  Sure I was a jerk – but what little boy isn’t?  I rolled with the homies, and excluding the girls was my mission.  This fabulous way of life raced on til about ten years… Didn’t pass the finish line, but for this new leg – my old one felt weird.  The silly, cootie ridden girls which I knew had disappeared, and in their place – God’s beauty was there.  I couldn’t form what I wanted to say, but all I knew was that even my babysitter wasn’t looked at in the same way.  And no not as the object of some sick fantasy, but instead of being only a fan of me, I wanted to cool her down too – women are hot.  I used to roll in the dirt, lay in it, and spread my arms and legs from side to side… But no lady wants an angel who’s got mud sliding down his eye…

By fifteen the old me had faded, and although my vision was still a bit jaded, I could no longer fake it – I had to appeal to these magnificent beings in order to make it.  But oh it was rough before I found myself and became smooth like a matured Urkel.  Ladies were taboo, cuz I never had the right words, and it was like my language was coughin cuz what I wanted to say always ended up dyin, and they wrinkled up their face whenever I spoke – like inside they were crying.  As I grew in mastery, I observed visual flattery, and rather than a charity, my affections became high end like antigravity.  These goddesses were dazzling, my wit steadily frazzling, in order to survive I engineered a catastrophe – I became about the wedding day.  And that allowed me to see them in a different way…

So now it’s snowing outside… I’m out here alone.  Forming Frosty from the frost, enjoying the cold on my nose.  Wanting a daughter of Eve, but willing to stay in my zone… Discovery of the finest happens where you designate your home.  I laid down in the ground, like I used to long ago, began praying to God, and moving my arms and legs back and forth…  I employed my imagination in this divine conversation, and the specific personification of God’s greatness in His female creation, became so wondrously outrageous that I couldn’t help but laugh.  Echoing the spirit of Sarah, believing that God was bad, but not that bad.  God stuck His finger in the snow, and I saw angels arise.  Beautiful, gorgeous, diamond studded, transparent, breath taking beings of light – if only you could see what I see!  It would darn near stop your mind… and the irony that I learned to accept was that – none of them were mine… And through a content spirit, I saw through the magnification of their astounding beauty, the overwhelming beauty of my God with a different eye…

I know not how long I lay there, but I noticed something… I had ceased my movements, but the snow was moving.  Matching the exact span of my arms and legs, something hot was brewing.  I jumped up, and looked down, and immediately looked away.  For there burned the most glorious angel with all the force of the day!  She arose out of the snow, and I watched – utterly captivated.  She offered her hand to me, but I was I still so mesmerized that I didn’t take it.  And then – I hesitated.  So many angels had arisen, and then departed.  Gifts for other of God’s children.  And yet she spread her wings not to alight into the sky, but to expose the core of her essence and touch the prayer I had buried deep in my mind…

I took her hand…

And I myself began to glow…

We shared a smile…

And next thing – we’re laughing making snow angels.

 

**

~The Wordsmith

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