Dear, Angel

Dear Angel,

I don’t know your name.

But I know you’re home.

I felt it—

the day you bent your wings.

The day I almost fell.

You left the light behind.

All the glory.

All the freedom.

Just so I wouldn’t stumble.

You didn’t lift me out.

You stayed in the dark with me.

And that—

that was everything.

I carry you now.

Maybe your name was Mercy.

Or Grace.

Or something I whispered

when I thought no one heard.

Your light

never left.

—Angela Bond

Daughter, Unwritten