The night is cold like the back rooms in restaurants that are filled with frozen foods.
Tears trickle down to the edge of my chin like wet paint dripping down a canvas
Then fall onto my soft, fresh sheets.
Hands held close to my head as if a hammer had just hit me like a deep memory hits a broken heart.
And the weight of all my problems is hovering above me,
Like the mythical ships of outer space over Earth.
Next, in an instant,
The wooden barrier creeps open to reveal an Angel shadowed by the hall light.
This Angel is real and tangible.
This Angel, whose heart is as big as a galaxy, gave birth to me.
She is there for me like oxygen for all forms of life on the blue planet.
When she speaks, decades of wisdom spill from her mouth in a shower of words.
As she floats in, her alarmed eyes widen at the sight of me, her daughter, who is curled up like a lazy sloth in a tree.
A path made of effervescent stars arises from the entrance to my sleeping space,
Words from this Angel pass through the atmosphere and find their way to my ears
That can only hear the soft sounds of one that knows how to comfort a sunken soul.
And it feels as though the sun is in my room,
Making everything feel warm again.
As the clock ticks, the waterfalls of my face seem to wash away like the dirt on a car when a thunderstorm hits.
And as this Angel wraps her wings around my small body,
My taut limbs spread out on the blanket-filled bed.
Now I am calm and still like the streets in the middle of the night.
And now this Angel walks back toward my bedroom hall, that is admirably luminescent like the
sky when a million lanterns are released into it.
My Very Own Angel
Camille Monty
33