A gift from my friend, Jane,
she was made especially for me
from clear and ruby stained glass.
For years she has sat on the shelf
by the front door guarding and
blessing all those who come and go.
But one day not long ago,
I found her lying on the floor,
bumped carelessly from the shelf
and left lying twisted and broken
by someone who had no regard
for the importance of angels.
Her turned-wire halo is askew,
the flowers gone from her hands.
Her head is wobbly, not quite straight,
and one wing has nearly fallen off.
And yet, when I went to place
her reverently in the trash,
I couldn’t bear to leave her there.
I guess that’s because I’ve known
so many broken angels in my life.
Angels who have felt much pain,
both physical and emotional,
broken appendages and broken hearts.
But despite all they have endured,
their lights shine even brighter for
they know how truly dark it is
when all the lights go out.
Thank you, God, for broken angels,
and the way their glow lights up