On Wings

on wings

I found myself in the ruins again
a barren landscape, that wasteland of the past
somehow both haunting and familiar

The angel on my shoulder endeavored to find reprieve
as I struggled to breathe, struggled to find the horizon
She stirred stagnant air, beating torn wings with
the honed perfection unending practice brings
My constant companion, albeit sometimes under protest,
she whispered advice knowing I had mastered
the art of ignoring the obvious

My hands traced skeletons of missed opportunities
sending up clouds of dust that stung my eyes
No matter…I knew the path by heart
I walked miles in darkness

And when I awoke, drenched in sweat and shivering,
a kaleidoscope of butterflies danced at my open window
bathed in the perfect glow of sunrise — pink, red, and orange

photo: Pixabay

prompts: WordPress Daily Prompt, #POV prompt, #DrugVerse, #Darklines, First Line Friday, A Year of Poetry




  1. Beautiful Michelle. Your word imagery is intense. I can picture this angel Guardian on her shoulder, leading her through the bad times, the darkness and upon awakening from some kind of nightmare the vividness of those butterflies and the sunrise and hope for so much better that day. For the nightmares to remain only nightmares.

    Liked by 1 person

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