Scourge

Every egg reaches a stage in its development when it wants to hatch.
The human body is no different.

The ethereal embryo that has matured inside flesh
Wants to take its first breath.
Except the fleshy shell does not break away like eggs;
It has be torn and slashed,
And since the embryo is aether
This now becomes a hatching on another plain.

Two work together, taking turns,
To deliver the spirit that wants out.
They go to work, operating on the egg before them.
She grunts as they tear into the flesh,
Sometimes in agony, sometimes in pleasure.
Her toes curl on the linoleum floor,
And as she looks down,
The patterns in the tiles start to float up.

They become white and stretch.
She closes her eyes.
She’s now in the sky, hovering above the earth.
She can still feel the hatching taking place,
But it has led her to this moment.
The moment in which her spirit will shed the casing,
And a new angel will be born.

She feels two beams of energy shoot from her shoulders;
She feels the power spread behind her,
Hold her up,
Keep her in flight.
Then the moment passes;
She has seen the casing fall, and she knows she is free.
“It’s a girl,” she says, breathless.

They wrap her in blankets and lay her on the couch.
They can’t see the angel that was just freed,
But they can feel it in the ecstasy on her face.