I know and angel

Snow Angel

I know an angel. Her wings smell like fresh fallen snow and frost that bites my nose. She is quiet, like a snowscape, and she is just as beautiful. Her voice is like the echo of the low notes on a piano as they fade into the last lines of the song…sometimes it makes me cry. She is good with words weaving them into the most beautiful poems, even though they are sad. It speaks of the shadows that rest on the bleachers at a basketball game, and the crying voices no one hears.

Sometimes she tells me about the days she left behind. Her voice gets lower her eyes fill with sorrow.

They beat her bloody with words and skin her imagination with the razor blade reality. She cries all the time she sings broken nursery rhymes. Her hands and knees crumble with scabs, her nails covered in dirt, every day. Her face bruised and forlorn, like a rag doll so used and torn.

Helpless, tired, worn, she was.

Clean, untouchable, beautiful, she wanted to be.

Cold, frozen, and hard, she became.

Dirty, worn, broken, she kept alive.

Warm, forgiving, loving, she left behind.

Listen to the young girl wearing too much eyeliner, losing herself in the crowd. She cries to the night skies. Listen to the young boy, so lost and confused with his identity. He cries under the covers at night. Listen to the brown haired teacher, overworked and underpaid. She cries quietly and rubs her red eyes. Listen to the angel, trapped in the snow, begging to be let go. She cries bleeding red scabs.

Helpless, tired, used, she was.

Clean, untouchable, beautiful, she wanted to be.

Cold, frozen, and hard, she became.

Dirty, worn, broken, she kept alive.

Warm, forgiving, loving, she left behind.

I know an angel. Her wings smell like fresh fallen snow and frost that bites my nose. She is quiet like a newly fallen snowscape, and the crying voices only she can hear. Singing broken lullabies and crying every night.