Seraphim

Watching the gold and reds bounce

She was waiting for the sun to set

From the sky to her window.

It was quiet here, and the

Silence was her friend, lover. She thought

For a moment of the past

That had brought her to this place,

The pain she had endured, overcame,

Sadness fought, evils vanquished.

She was standing with her hands

Against the clear glass, pressing her face

Against the stained, lifeless moon.

The voices had stopped now, and

Taking this quiet moment inside

Her, feeling it, loving it.

She was not afraid, for fear

Was for the weak, not the Seraphim.

She ran her delicate hands

Through her pale blonde hair, moving

It away from a porcelain face,

Stretched her white wings to heaven.

She had laid her weapons at

The door, knowing that to bring them here

Would defile this holy place.

Wanting for them now, she needs

To feel their coolness of her blades and

The sharp spear, the thin arrows.

The girl, who was truly no

Longer a girl, and not yet woman,

Gave a long look to the door.

She let her last tears fall,

Slowly, burning, caressing her cheek

Until the rain from her face

Crawled across the glass. She slips,

Walking across the long hall, she wished

Still for the colored sunset.

What was real? The Seraphim

Could not feel, taste, touch. Where now, when the

Last warriors long to dust.

Before this moment, none of

Heaven and hell’s secrets were true.

Her tears came faster, hotter,

Tears of black ash, burning her

Pleasantly white skin and pale, flat eyes.

Once this world closes, she can

Never go back home again.

She gives her life for the voice of God,

And cries for those left behind.