The Medicine of Angels
Comes in quiet spaces with words we don’t always understand, in language we have not studied. Lives in hidden corners of our hearts. The medicine of angels is meant to hold us through our black tunnels of grief. Is meant to be our mothers’ arms When our mothers have gone to rest and we find ourselves bereft. The medicine of angels is in the music, and in streams of water, and in the voices of our memories. Call them up those angels that are ours. Remember the sounds of their laughter. Sit with their joy. Be their friend again. We have forgotten that there is free healing, available to all. We have forgotten that our soft flesh was meant to be vulnerable, was meant to love, not always to measure, but to embrace, not always to judge, but to forgive. We have forgotten that the invisible is real, that angelic wings do fly, and that sun can be conjured from within. copyright © Linda Beatrice Brown March 24, 2020