Angel Child

I saw an angel child on the train today.

Eyes full of the light I’d given away.

Singing and talking

Hands covered in little black mittens.

Little hands that danced and swayed

As if conducting music that I couldn’t hear.

They danced over rainbows and trees

As he explained things I’d lost sight of.

He told me about what it was to be a child.

What it was to see through his eyes.

And then he looked at me.

He looked me right in the eyes.

Looked at me and I’ve never felt more solid.

More present.

More planted to this planet.

I’ve been looked through a thousand times.

Seen as bits and pieces.

Seen as a good daughter

Seen as a bad lover.

Seen as a decent teacher.

Seen as a slacker student.

But it’s been awhile since I’ve been whole.

Since I was seen for everything I am.

Since I was put together by someone and they didn’t dash it all back to pieces.

And he looked at me.

He looked at me and didn’t shrink back.

And I felt whole again.

And then he left.

Dragged along by his father

Clasped onto by that little black mitten.

And I was left on a train of strangers

People either seeing bits and pieces

Or simply seeing through

And I wished my eyes shone.

I wished I had little black mittens

Wished I could make them dance

and tell the man across from me a story of giraffes and rainbows.

I wished I could fill my whole body up

With the love of the world and everyone around me.

But I’ve had too many holes poked through this skin.

All my light shines out

Escaping to the dark places I’ve frequented.