Why Do Fallen Angels Fill My Porch?

Heavy breathing, grinding teeth.
I awake with a jerk.
These nightmares have gotten the best of me,
they are starting to feel so real.
I never know when I’m awake or dreaming anymore.

I walk, slow at first.
I start speaking in a whisper, not knowing the words I mumble.
It’s as though I’m a puppet being toyed with.
I don't want to move; yet I sub-consciously feel myself running for the door.
Why?
What am I running from?

I hear faint screams.
They get louder and louder each step I take closer to the door.
I turn around to see the place I’m leaving,
It looks as though my life's fading away.
Everything’s becoming blurred.
I've lost vision.

I want to cry for help, but nothing but the endless stream of uncontrollable words escape my lips.
I struggle for the door.
Let me out of this living nightmare.

The door swings open and the darkness from the night consumes me.
The garden light is dim, but I manage to make out figures as I slowly regain sight.

Why do fallen angels fill my porch?
Why do they lie there under the blood red sky with no sign of life?
Looking up I see them falling.
Not how a human would, but slowly,
Fluttering to the ground like a dead leaf in Autumn

I run to one lying down and cover myself
with one of her limp wings in hope of protection of what’s to come for me.

If the plague is so strong as to wither the beautiful angels,
What is to become of the rest of us?

I cradle myself in her wing.

Carla Dunareanu
4J