Wingless Angel

Wingless Angel.  By: Megan Walsh


Midnight, and her eyes begin to peel open.

He screams like a banshee, yearning for his mother’s breast.

Hesitantly, she pulls herself out of bed, comforting her cannon, thinking,

“why won’t he just go to sleep?”

What new things will life throw at her feet? Where did her days go, when did her life turn into this constant helplessness?

A dreamless night in a rocking boat,

has become her eventide. Not a moment of quiet.

Dawn comes all too quickly.


My tiresome days in sports does not even compare

to the weary days of being a mother.

Exhausted, she engulfs her saving grace of energy.

Steam rolls off the hot, black cup,

opening her mind to see the radiation of the sun.


She reminisces of the days when school was her biggest concern.

Those days--when life was simple--is now a lifetime ago.

She covets mid-day, for no part of her day is more devoted to silence.

Her time is now her own. Yet she finds herself watching

the peace of his unclouded eyes, and the lull of his brow. He knows not of life’s cruel ways.

So, with a kiss, she sacrifices her life to chasing away all those monsters.

No a soul will touch her child.


Go to school, suffer through work, then the hardest part: be a mother.

The stubborn child demands attention, never letting her rest.

She is her own superhero, for she is unstoppable.

She will keep trudging through.

No obstacle is big enough to stand in her way.

Slowly chipping away at her youth, he gives her a special smile.

To her, he is the sun, and the world is but a candle.


Rough hands, unmask the pain of duty,

years of stupidity left scars like a bombshell.

Frown lines are non-existent--her smile a beautiful sight.

Through the hardships, she has continued on.

A child is her prize, along with a

divine life with love and family.

This mother is the holder of sanity.

Holding her thoughts in, she puts up her front.

No human, or being, will hurt her boy.

She pushes through gusts of cold wind, and marches over mind-captivating mud,  

not even letting it slow her down.


A mother, day by day

taking it as it comes.

“Love your life” they tell her,

but she does more,

she embraces it.

The same blood pumps through my veins,

pushing me to be a strong force.

But, I just stand there and watch,

this mother, my sister, becoming a hero.

I watch as his bright smile flashes across her eyes,

I notice how she is biting her lip.


Hiding the tears of her sorrow, I see the re-application of make-up.

I can tell that she wonders about what her life could have been.

Still, she carries on.

Throwing her pain aside, she forges a smile,

her child will not be her undoing,

but her life source.

Love in an abundant form,

he is her everything.

Seeing him grow, and love

is her faith.


Emily: a mother,

who flies through the sky

never touching the ground.


You are a wingless




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