The Guardian

I believe in angels. A host of them must be hovering over Newtown, CT after the recent tragedy, seeking to aid and comfort the living who lost so much. The cry of anguish and grief must have shaken the Gates of Heaven as the nightmare unfolded. My thoughts immediately went to the side of the guardian angel assigned to watch over any or all of these children and I began to wonder what he would do, what he would feel, and how he would react to an atrocity of this magnitude.

What follows is what my mind's eye saw, as it followed that angel, as it watched The Guardian on that dreadful day.

Mick

The Guardian

The guardian stood, silently weeping,
His glorious wings were shaking and furled ,
For children he'd watched over while sleeping,
Were suddenly ripped away from their world.
He'd seen the young man with guns attacking,
An ice pick of violence in his mind;
Felt the shell of young innocence cracking,
The eyes of childhood gone suddenly blind.
In an instant twenty young souls went home,
Their safety was no longer in his care.
His mission had now instantly become,
To comfort and aid the survivors there.
He gave solace to all who would listen,
His golden whisper down deep in their ears.
His face was intent, his eyes a-glisten,
As he raced to calm their grief and their fears.
He soothed their minds and he touched hearts and souls;
Some too young to understand tragedy,
And older hearts recognizing the holes,
So suddenly torn in their family.
And as they buried their broken treasures,
He prayed they could also bury their grief,
And find the quiet, the peace and pleasures,
Of family love and certain belief:
That their loved ones live, in a better place,
Secure and contented in God's embrace.

The guardian stood, and a silent smile,
Touched his face, so recently streaked by tears,
For those he could help, in a little while,
Would forgive and live on, though it took years.
Yet, many tiny ones would still remain,
Seeking and searching for any relief,
From the darkness and unrelenting pain,
Of innocence lost and brittle-sharp grief.
Fast as any thought, the guardian sped --
To save the living from grief for the dead.

Mick McKellar
December 2012

Candles in the Snow

I loved my Christmas walkabouts, touring our snow-covered roads and dodging drowsy drivers, a tottering shadow on the snow with a flashlight and an instant readiness to dive for the snowbank, where a sidewalk should have been. I was an enormous shade, cloaked in a great grey parka, and I drifted down the snowy lanes of Calumet and Laurium, making little or no sound, as I searched the cold December skies (when the clouds and the snow permitted) to wonder at the majesty of distant suns. When frustrated by winter's glowering curtain, I lowered my eyes to marvel at our colorfully courageous attempt to capture that twinkling glory in myriad displays of Christmas lights.

When snow fell, as it so often does here, the piercing beauty of the lights flickered and dimmed as it shone through the dancing and swirling flakes. Sounds were muted and softened, distant and muffled, replaced by the soft sussurations of the snow, murmuring and whispering as it fell and drifted toward its earthly rest. When I stopped for a moment, a sense of solitude and peace settled upon my shoulders, along with the ever-present snow.

I treasure those memories, especially the night I was captivated by three Christmas candles in a neighbor's window -- flickering brightly and dancing their warm golden light into the silent, snowy night. They seemed a thousand miles away and yet, they filled my heart with warmth.

Mick

Candles in the Snow

I love to walk abroad December nights,
Search Cimmerian skies for Christmas stars;
In liquid dome of distant twinkling lights,
Prevailing over glare from passing cars,
And street light's radiance lambent on the snow --
A softly folded blanket, sheer and white.
I pause and spy them easily, they show
Their yuletide incandescence to my sight:
From far-off fire, the twinkling cosmic flame,
Sends forth a gift of splendor for my eyes.
Snow softly whispers of a Child, whose Name
Recalls the songs of angels from the skies.
My heart fills with a blithe and merry glow,
Of candles shining warmly in the snow.

Mick McKellar
December 2012