Belief In Not Knowing

And was this Clint, come to rescue me? I heard his voice through the black-red veil of pain: you'll be okay Anna Cody, he said, you will be okay, and somehow I believed him even though I knew I was dying and I wouldn't be okay really.
But he fled, too, and the horse, who had stood motionless for those breathtaking moments while Clint spoke, reared up again and continued to rain its hooves onto both me and the innocent earth I lay upon.
I had the faintest impression, then, of angels circling above me.
And they were sobbing.