My Angel Wings

Ducks in the park.....

I'm lying on a long thick sheepskin rug

listening to the soft voice of my Family Constellation teacher.

She's taking me on a walk, gently through my body

which is buzzing and exhausted

after all that shouting and crying

and hitting cushions with my fists.

Letting the safe air receive

the shriek of my expletives,

the howl of my tears.

When we reach my collarbones on this body walk 

she says,

These are the oldest bones in the body

where our wings were once attached.

She means when we first crawled -  or flew -  out of the primordial swamp.

She says,

Imagine the size of your wings

where they can take you

up high 

so you can see the vista of your dreams and

everything you long for.

Imagine the feel of your wings

when they wrap you at night in sleep.

But I imagine they are my angel wings,

huge and iridescent.

Outstretched:

holding us all

fiercely

with love.

Folded in:

embracing my heart.

(House Martin Angel - top of Glastonbury Tor last September)