This is not sleep,
This is the rustle of
Angels’ wings through
And beyond you. We are
Many. We watch over you
All the light long.
Our wings blaze up with your pain.
Our witness is also to
Your sorrow, your shame, your
Desire for repentance.
We hear you in
the depths
Of your loneliness and despair.
Be not afraid of
These depths of feeling.
They call to us
And give us a place to live.
We cherish these depths,
For they are where we belong.
When your cries
In your dreams reach our ears,
Our listening spirit turns
Your utterance towards grace where
Behold, all is
Forgiven, all is accepted, all is real.
The brush of our wings
Lifts your wounded spirit into
Eternity, where you are
Healed, made whole again.
We are the new inside
The old, we are here
Awaiting you,
Loving everything you say and do.
We will never let you down.
We are your joy.
Where you inscribe
These words is our heart.
We are the 2nd and 3rd and 4th
And 5th and 6th and 7th
Chances you didn’t know you had.
We give without being asked.
We arise out of your sleep
And return to whence we came.
But you need not close
Your eyes to see us or to know
That we are there.
The words you find
To say in this state of
Grace we will polish into pearls
And string across the sky
Deep within you, and whenever you
Look up you can read
What they have to say to you.
Words gathered from meadows,
Plucked from trees, found by the shore,
Overheard in the babbling
Brook as voices
That have long since gone—
By those words we know you,
The plea you utter now
We hear. And we can say
To you that all will be well, all will be well.
The lessons you learn on your journey
Day by day, night after night,
We are writing together,
In collaboration.
This is the book that will never
Be opened. This is the book
That will never be closed.
We are hidden from view,
But when a wrong is committed
By you—and there will be many—
You will not be able to look us
In the eye. That is when
You will know for sure
We exist, always here in your midst.
But only in the middle of
This prayerful attitude, only then
Will we answer back.
Whenever you’re not listening,
This door will be closed.
For the key, ask the child.
Botsford, Alan. A Book of Shadows. Katydid Books, 2003.
