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Delicate ivory feathers

Dropping from the sky.

Fluttering gracefully down,

Like a wandering butterfly.



I turn my gaze towards Heaven,

To see from where they fall.

Upon a cloud, I see an angel-

A sight before, I can't ever recall.



Her wings are torn and tattered,

The feathers breaking free.

I catch one in my palm,

Its like dainty filigree.



I feel a soft mist descending,

But there isn't any rain.

The drops are coming from her eyes.

Tears of utter pain.



'Why are you crying?' I asked.

'I thought all angels sing?

Why are your feathers dropping,

Like that of broken wing?'



'I am the Angel Of Peace.'

She said, in soft reply.

'My angel wings are broken now,

No longer can I fly.'



'The world is all in turmoil.

Peace cannot be found.

Everywhere I've looked,

There's sadness all around.'



'Unlike that of a human,

Angel hearts, aren't at stake.

For us, it is our wings,

That slowly start to break.'



'Until the wars and hatred stop

And people begin to feel,

Only then will I rise, to fly again

And my broken wings shall heal.'



'So spread the word of my message.

The one I bring of Peace.

My angel wings will continue to break,

Until the hate, doth cease.'



With that she faded away,

As she ended her gentle command.

There I stood with a message in my heart...

...And a feather in my hand.