when faced by another angel

i'd just completed a therapy session after a week of tumultuous self-realization by all definitions, loss, and spiritual ass kicking. left my apartment in my favorite shield of a t-shirt, and slunk down the stairs to the beat of my favorite song of the week.

a man with a face full of candied freckles stopped me in the lobby of the building

they can't kill me either. no one can.

i was struck, might have even recoiled. he continued:

no man has the power to crush me. physically, maybe, but spitirually? hooooo...

he let out a long, sweet sigh

only God can do that.

we spoke about the space between the spirit and the flesh. how all three must collaborate despite all odds, and have the burden of being siloed.

we paused once we'd made it to the street

he smiled, waiting

i asked for his name

Houd, he said and pointed to a stone white SUV parked in front of where we stood.

see the hood of that car? it protects the engine. i'm like that.

he lifted his arm and pointed to the hairs standing pin straight

i saw you and thought you should know.

then he was gone