Hourglass

Stroking the silver cross, blurry eyes stared unfocused at the ripples
Made by her pale feet lightly dipping upon the otherwise still waters.
It was cloudy today, just as that day not too long ago.
She frowned; no, that day had been a merciless abusive storm
When she had dropped into the great inter-clashing cascades below.
The wind had screamed and clouds wept heavy grieving tears
While the sea pulsed and twitched as if to gobble her up like a monster.
She continued to stroke the rosary, head down slightly in repentance.
How much longer would she fail until the demons of Hell burst
To drag her down to the torturous depths of their homeland?
That day, the day her mangled body fell from the sky into the gaping
Mouth of the sea for freshly stirred salt to punish her wounds further.
She had failed and she wept softly and stroked the weary rosary.
Tying her wings away had slowed their healing, but not long enough.
He celestial wings had been broken because she was sinful
And she would go to Hell because she failed to feel compassion.
Now they had healed and her sins had stained them a deep, deathly black.
Unable to learn the errors of her ways, there was no hope now.
Only the quiet hushing whisper of the water could comfort
As she waited, waited, wings small and as if dipped in ink, only
The hidden base at her shoulder blades still the pearly white purity.
Without pure wings, she could not fly to the graces of Heavenly light.
The ripples picked up across the waters and the former angel hung her head.
Time would wait no longer.