Guardian angels

Guardians of the tree of life
or winged goddesses of Egypt,
from Sumeria to Babylon and beyond
you are known moving
between heaven and earth,
fusers of dimensions, who instruct,
inform or command,
protective or heavenly warriors,
cosmic power mediating
bone to wing and flesh to spirit.

You shine white into praise,
decode human landscapes
far into the night with light
deserving of your halo.

Watching over a soul you warn,
yet bring slivers of hope to its dream,
splice it, fix it into existence.
And where it is torn to shreds,
you smooth out and repair,

as you work incessantly
to mend shattered lives, nurture
stillborn babies and more,
feeding them through the haze,
over bloody sheets, in an unlit room,
before laying them back
into their soft cradle for rebirth.

Wherever a soul goes, you go,
intercept at junctures on its way,
inspire thoughts spurring into action
or lend super human strength.

You draw blood, too, drops of pain,
as hearts are pricked, and pricked again,
until a callous forms
with your urging on to accept and forgive.

Each sadness, each blow struck
you kiss better at the morning break,
bringing a feel of safety
to a frail cowering human soul
huddled under your protective wings.

And when darkness falls
you carry the soul
overtaken by death.