Angels Danced, For Luloo
It was Christmas Eve and your father looked at his watch praying beyond hope that
you would not be born exactly at midnight. According to superstition that would
make you a witch by birth. The year was 1929 and you popped out of your
mothers womb at 11:45, making a good man very happy, alongside an exhausted
wife. You turned out to be a healer and a miracle worker. Spending your days
helping those in need. When it was time to go home, on that warm day of August,
you just slipped away quietly into the night leaving behind my daughtered heart
and your untarnished halo.
they opened their wings
then clanged tambourines of gold
as you ascended
September 5, 2019
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