A broken statue of an angel, part of its wing is attached. Otherwise, I might have assumed it was Jesus.

A sense of Spirituality washes over me, life is imperfect, and spirituality reminds me of the Invisible hand of healing and grace I can take hold of to guide me.

The pink gown folds with elegance, and the head is missing along with the upper torso, giving way to the invisible heart exposed as if prayers of those who had come before me slip into the open air, a pathway to another person's journey.

Reminding me that even in brokenness, I am not alone; there is a well-worn path, of tears, of other's lives lived before me. I hold on to the hand of the soul of love.