The anatomy of angels

When I was fourteen, I saw an angel. It was likely 8 feet tall. And looking at it was like looking at the sun.

I wake at 2.30am. Someone is shaking me, asking me about canons. I don’t remember. ‘What would it be like, to meet an angel?’ they say. Their voice jumps in soundbites.

‘Hell, that would be a wondrous thing,’ I breathe words into darkness, but all those years ago I just ran. All the way back across the fields without stopping. And I slammed the backdoor so hard the windows in the front room rattled. Even Mam looked at me long enough to ask if I was okay.

I said, ‘Yeah, just been runnin.’ Feels like I’ve been running ever since. I never said anything about the angel.

The voice calls again, dead leaves on the wind, ‘Hush little one, remember the canons.’ But when I think about anything, all I remember is the last time I thought about it.

I search through an anatomy of corrupted files. Looking for answers when the damn truth was lost in the first telling. When I was fourteen, I saw an angel. And everything since then has been a lie.

Canons shake me awake again, I don’t even know I’m sleeping.


© 2017 jac forsyth


41 thoughts on “The anatomy of angels

  1. Your pieces are always fascinating to read Jac – there’s always a balance between beauty and horror and this one is no exception. I’m also entirely convinced I’d have legged it at the sight of an 8ft angel as well.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Haha, I had a dream about someone trying (and failing) to teach me how to can-can. Couple that with donuts and scary angels and we have season one of a US fantasy drama.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Thank u v much for becoming my 200th Follower!
    A special cake is on order
    I like a blog where th only predictability is th unpredictability – glad that #200 is this site, and not just somebody trying to sell me something

    Liked by 1 person

  4. This stopped me. Damn I get it psychologically. I feel the ‘sense’ and the sensing, the strangeness. Very powerful.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Yeah I can’t. Was sitting here thinking about it and feeling the freeze. It was stupid experience that would be minimized by words alone.


  6. 🎶 I seem to be wearing a tiara and talking to a woman in France about septic tanks. It’s a strange world, sometimes I wonder if poetry and laughter is all there ever was to know.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Sez she talks to angels. Sez they all know her name…

    Great piece here!

    I’ve believed myself in communication with angels before. To me, they were mighty mighty. I ran as well.


    Liked by 1 person

  8. So many wondrous things have been sanitised and remade in the image of man. Running away has many different outfits methinks. Love the peace ☮ thanks, babe.


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