A Perfect Flake of Snow
Stifled in darkness so god doesn’t notice
The (‘hallmark moment’) sobs,
Will angels have any
Tears left for us
When existence slips back into
God’s pocket with the other lint universal?
When angels can’t stop their grief
We call it climate change.
Each tear a perfect flake of snow
Falling.
So many from heaven, drifting deep in sadness,
Recalling the last moment of laughter
From the littlest snow angels humanity can still cherish.
Perfect, tiny impressions of wings on
Fresh blankets of frosty, diamond white.
Looking back and beyond our chaos,
With ancient cheeks forever moist,
Weeping eternally for our lack
Of understanding of how it all works.
(To love another more).
Their hearts will break until time is silent.
Embracing forever (our lost) innocence
Of Newtown
Brian O. Butler
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