A Pair of Angel Hands
As a child, hiding from suffocating strife
She would imagine a pair of angel hands
Cupped around her face
Warm and gentle
Like a summer breeze
There, there, they would whisper
Softly drying her tears.
Ethereal, but tangible.
She could feel arms cocooning her
From the storm raging outside the cupboard door.
Settling the fear, sadness and frustration
In her tiny soul.
Quelling the vengeful spirit
Broiling her insides
As it waited for an opportunity
To tear its way out and wreak havoc
In the embrace of those ghostly arms
Peace and comfort would engulf her
A sense that all would eventually be well
An inner calmness
Would seep into her every atom
Her sob-wrung weary chest would ease
And she could finally lay down to rest
And sleep the sleep of the innocent.
© Kate McClelland 2016