Guardian Angels Witness More Lives Than Yours
You are eight years old. Your angel watches as you pull wings from a butterfly’s thorax. The butterfly’s
angel watches the day-old insect writhe. The two angels watch one another as one creature lives and
the other dies.
To feel your way into your life, you kill that small creature. Later, you don’t need such cruelty. Your
angel knows this. The dead butterfly’s angel knows too.
Over the whole earth’s scalp, lives uncountable. Above each body hovers an angel. Each angel gazes
at the others, each watcher witnessed.
We desire to become angels, to outlast creation’s brokenness. Our angels witness this desire, held in
each human chest like a caged songbird.
Our eyes also witness. We too observe and marvel. But we are not angels. We watch until our attention
drifts. We forget our own brutality.
