I hurtle through space
velocity pushing my breath back
choking on air, falling, eternal spin.
Seven aeons, seven hundred,
Seven days, seven minutes
No sense of time or a reason
I land in a world of stone
hard and unforgiving.
My left wing broken, unable to fly
I lay on the rock alone.
She comes to me with a scalpel blade
unpicking every stitch in my wound
with exquisite, fine pointed precision and care
lost again in space, I roll from the rock
drifting downward in free fall
the earth rises up to meet me
old greeting, old paths, old ways,
days barely remembered
this land of arches and doorways
doors open, doors locked, mystery
I escape from this place
to the trees by the river
where the castle shadow still falls.
Staggering I fall to one knee.
I try to hold on to what’s left of my heart
tired, broken winged, exhausted
time and space don’t matter to me
i wish only for peace, tenderness,
to know that she will remember me
wings battered and lame
spinning in free fall panic
hold me still again
The painting is Fallen Angel by Luis Royo