Phoenix in Flames

Two angels dressed in black
came to the funeral of my past;
a crowd formed around me,
my broken halo on the ground.
I knelt down by the coffin,
screaming silent, crying-
black feathers falling
from my broken wings.
The spectators watched this
dreadful sight, averted their eyes
to avoid my hateful glare;
they were two steps away
and ready to run...
Anger flooded exhaustion;
exhaustion flooded my veins.
I gave up, limp, abandoned hope
and laid there at their feet.
It was then that these angels--
their black halos tucked away--
lifted me back to my feet
and handed me a match.
Let go, one whispered softly
as the other one took my hand.
Inside I struggled deep and sighed;
lit the match and closed my eyes;
observers fled as the fire spread,
and the ghosts of my pasts
fed the flame.
As the fire drew closer
and we could feel the heat,
we stood,
three winged silhouettes
on the horizon.

Two angels dressed in black
came to the funeral of my past
and all that I had somehow lost
was instantly regained;
love, fire, passion, life;
I was once again in flames.