falling is a very messy thing,
a tumble from a heavenly place, that house of light,
a place of security found in near-complete trust and naivete
so you fall. you didn't want to, but here you are:
lovely white feathers stripped away by wind and light,
melting and spinning around you,
your eyes momentarily blinded by the sight of your heaven,
far above, so unreachable now.
you clench your teeth, your whole whole mind going as taut as the tendons in your balled fists.
you sigh and make one last prayer, a different one this time,
entirely selfish and hopeful and honest,
no pretenses caged around it.
"please, please, please,
let there be someone waiting to catch me,
or at least pick me up when I hit the ground.
please, if you're still listening,
if you ever listened at all,
just give me someone."
but you know that wen your halo was broken, robes ripped and torn,
and the golden cross that used to hang around your neck cast away,
your ties to that place were gone.
so you spread your arms and fall.