Letters to Angels: prayers & poetry

To my friend the Angel,

Random message posted solely in my blog for you 'cause I know you check it. I miss you & miss the chats. Hope you're surviving the battles & finding solace in loving arms. Know that you are always in my thoughts & on my heart & my heart is both burdened & lighted every time I think of you. My heart is heavy with attempting to shoulder some of the weights you bear, but lightened always by the joy of your friendship, the wonderful strength & wonder of you....

I'm still winge-ing, still wrestling with the same stuff. I feel bad some days 'cause it's nothing too serious. If I was less a feeler, less melancholic (less me?) I'd be able to see the world with more objective, more logical eyes & would (maybe) have some great faith that it's all going to be OK.... (which I figure it will be eventually).... but yeah, you know me: I can't go through anything without 'feeling' it all....

... I pray your 'pen' is filled with ink - that your quill is sharp & that you have unlimited paper to pour your soul upon. I pray that the expression of your heart brings healing & clarity - both for you & for those lucky enough to read it.... I pray that the one you worship & cannot always see fights on behalf of you & your loved ones & that you find yourself chosen, cherished, & not in the place of apparent darkness & abandonment. Know that you're not alone, my friend... Loving hearts burn bright for you, like signal fires, like torches in the night... thank you for the beacon of hope that you bring to my life....

Anyhow, a random bit of poetry from Jewel's "A night without armour" book:

"We Have Been Called"

We have been called
naive
as if it were
a dirty word
We have been called
innocent
as though with shame
our cheeks should burn
So
We visited with
the careful idols
of cynicism
to learn to sneer
and pant and wlak
so as not to feel the scales
of judgement rub wrongly
But we say
some things must
remain simple
some things must remain
untouched
and pure
lest we all forget
the legacy which begot us
the health of our origins
the poetry of our fundamental selves

And so
it is to
the longing hearts we sing
rise! spread
your wings!
Let no hand
nor ill will
keep you.