An Angel with Forever Wings


An Angel with Forever Wings


It's not that I am fascinated by death, it's just that I'm intrigued by the monuments that we erect for the dead: tombs that lead to the underworld, a funnel with statues falling in, a young girl eternally sleeping in a rocking chair, angels pushing forward mid-air reminding me of superman...  

They all have this ethereal air around them, in particular those bathed by daylight. It goes without saying that they seem otherworldly, like a somber superhero, or one that has come to help but is under an oath of silence. Some statues beckon from their quiet place, while others seem to wait patiently. For what? For us to notice them?

The spirits of the statues may not be there anymore. Some have risen to our minds, above our heads in flight finding peace. Theirs is the quiet. Theirs is the eternity of glowing molecules, shifting in the light and alighting no where. Theirs is the life/death bend. One moment they sparkle, the next bending back to dust.

I think how I don't want to be buried in the ground, suffocating in dirt. Stones crack and break with age, so in the future loved ones might not find me there. Even more stifling is the thought of being locked up in a box forever–a box between other boxes.

I want to soar on the wind forevermore, or glide on the ocean like my grandparents. Free in death like (I hope) in life. People will remember me if they will. Maybe I will be forgotten. I'm not sure if I would be more "permanent" in the ground; I would just take longer to decompose.

I want to be an angel with forever wings...


Photo and text: Kristen Mastromarchi
 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Through the Eyes of the Dog

Image
Through the Eyes of theDog Einstein stared into my soul the other night. He searched and searched until he was sure of something. Just what that something was I’m not sure of, but I do know he was communicating it intently through his gaze. Einstein has wide, soil colored brown eyes set on the opposite sides of his boxer head. He is not an avid barker, although he growls softly sometimes to get you to play. Other than that, he relies on the power of his eyes to pull you in. He holds you in them and to them until you truly understand him. Then, as if under a spell you open the door or fill his bowl with food. However, the other night I kept misinterpreting his gaze. I tried to get up, thinking he wanted more space on the couch, but that wasn’t it. More staring. His owner explained that for the most part he has cracked the code behind Einstein’s mesmerizing looks, although he was just as baffled as I was with Einstein’s constant eye connection on the couch. Then it came to us that maybe
Read more

Family Gratitiude

Image
Family Gratitude I woke up today with two ideas etching in my brain: the push to restart my blog and the the tinkling in my fingers to write down all I'm thankful for.  "Why not combine them?" I thought with serendipity.  The first and last thing that filled my mind was a given: my family. Memories started flowing in...my mom sleeping in a chair next to my bed when I was in the hospital as a little girl and washing my hair as an adult after my last operation. Dad and Linda dancing in a concert outside a hostel years ago after another operation...as well as this past month with brown leaves and swamp scenes from upstate New York whizzing by as they drive us all over, making sure my partner Armi sees enough while he's here. All though this whilrwind trip, Armi has been willing to leave his habits aside. He has even adopted some of Dad and Linda's, like expressing gratitude before eating. The emotion gurgled up to my eyes from somewhere deeper as Armi gave his birthd
Read more

Beach Walk

Image
Beach Walk I never truly noticed that the sand reflects the sky until today. I stopped in my sopping tracks, beholden. Yes, that's the best way to describe it– I was beheld by the sand mixing with the sky in tones of rose and baby blue. I was smitten by how the sand could hold so many hues–its own grainy sable, of course, but also grays and violets.  The wet sand formed a slate for the sky, but it also held many prints of feet or claws. I followed a zig-zagging display of three-toed tracks. At first I thought they must have been left by a seagull, but then I noticed pigeons weaving on the shore. Funny creatures they are:no rhyme or reason dictates their choice of direction. Do they suddenly change their idea or do they have no idea where to go? Besides the birds for company, there were also leisurely walkers like me carrying their shoes in one hand. A barefooted runner passed me by, planting the idea in my head to do the same tomorrow. Other than those in movement, there were also
Read more