Disasters spawn angels upon the earth.
The angel of New Orleans bears wings of rain and howling wind. The angels of Hiroshima and Nagasaki bear wings like flash–burned silhouettes. The angel of San Francisco bears wings of smoke. The angels of London stand together, wing brushing wing, fire, plague, the concussion of bombs. The Valdivia angel, the Wenchuan angel spread their wings of shuddering rock. Angels with wings of floodwater stride across continents, the mud of rivers, the salt of tsunamis.
They are not angels of god, and no one knows how long their memory will last.
© 2015 by Sarah Monette
