Our Lady of Sorrows

She sees their wings as she looks up to the heavens, beating against the earth, as searing as the sun. As her son. Feathers of gold and white and pure holy light. As sweet and clamouring as church bells. The trumpets of holy God fill her ears, crystal clear music. Every sight, every sound, is like a kiss upon the lips. She reaches up her arms, kneeling at the cliffs edge, there is a churning sea below her. The water glows golden as it reflects the sun. She reaches up, up, reaching out to the angels. Stretching her bones as far as they will stretch. There are voices behind her. Voices. Voices she once knew. Now all she knows is the angels. She leans out, over the chasm, she leans forward. She teeters, she falls, twisting and tumbling in the air. Eyes fixed on the heavenly flapping of wings.