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I Become an Angel

From writings about helping my father as he completes his life.

I slide my arm under his shoulders to move him gently onto the pillows. He is all skewed and will wake with a crick in his neck if he sleeps too long that way. As I move him, he opens his eyes and gazes at me. Pure pure pure love. He smiles. All his face arranges itself around the feeling of happiness. I am still holding him. Usually I move back, smiling, but today I bend down because I feel him drawing me to him. If he could, he would reach up to kiss me. I kiss him on the cheek near his mouth, soft, slowish, delicate, and I feel him do the same. As I pull back he is smiling steadily at me. Yes, that is what he wanted, only he could not say the words. We gaze at one another, smiling. We do not waver. This goes on and on with the tiniest flickers in our smiles. Now and again we each blink slowly. Gently. But come back. This is longest I have ever held eye contact with my father.


feather9At length I pull slowly up to standing. I stroke his brow very very gently. His eyelids drift down. I hear his sleeping breathing set in. And then I feel it. In the center of my sternum, curving frond wings furl out through my shoulders to the side, embracing the bed and him. I am standing in my blue wool sweater and sweatpants with wide frond wings arcing around the bed. The frond wings grow from my nipples as well. Now the shape stretches down my spine to my sacrum, my tailbone. All my centers, pulsing and floating joyously from my sternum, waver like a palm tree in a languorous island breeze cradling peace around this slumbering man. He relaxes and relaxes, so safe. I am safety. I am love. I am the angel, the companion of his passage, the usher and the peace. I am the pillar of light between heaven and earth.



feather9I sit on a chair to rest. Whatever pours through me fills the room. I am in my destiny. All my years of spiritual training are for this. The frond wings drape over the chair, along the floor, curve up against the wall, catch the midday autumn light burnishing the blue and gilt pitcher with lavender stalks, the schooner in a bottle, the purple ruffles of a Victorian glass bowl, the pink marble table edge, the carpet’s figuration…





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    1. karleen #

      breathtakingly beautiful………

      November 17, 2013
      • Karleen, that means so very much from you.

        November 18, 2013
    2. JoDee Nosanow Eatmon #

      I drink your words in with a lump in my throat. I imagine me with my wings surrounding my mother last year, as I comforted her in her last days. Such sorrow, such peace, such grief and sadness and so much love! Thank you for taking me there. I am inspired to dance and express my feelings with the gift of movement that my mother gave me!

      November 18, 2013
      • So glad to be part of that inspiration…

        November 18, 2013
    3. Beautiful and soulful writing Dunya and I am assuming somehow inadequate to the “reality” and richness that has embraced you.

      November 18, 2013
      • Michael, at first I used too many words. It seemed the more words I used, the farther away the feeling. I trust in the space between the words to hold what you point to…And there are so many moments all day every day, not always this sublime, but as rich…

        November 18, 2013
    4. Shamsi #

      I feel the softness in you and cannot help but sense a line of where you are as compared to where you were when we first met.

      I feel/sense this massive receptivity that goes beyond seeking and lands squarely in the “Being” of Life. The acts of living. It’s such a gift to be able to witness; that you continue to share so much of your journey with us in these delicate whispers.

      I am eternally grateful for these views into your journey. ♥ With much love and gratitude for all of your facets in this world.

      November 18, 2013
    5. Anastasia Blaisdell #

      so beautiful…beautiful love…you are his angel….

      thank you immensely for letting us in…sharing…..

      November 23, 2013

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