No matter where I am
I am always aware of their eyes.
angel eyes follow me,
observing and noting,
and I didn’t understand when I was little
that this wasn’t how every person lived
and puzzled over the laughter
when I mentioned my “guides”
or “the keepers”.
Imaginary friends! the older ones laughed
and the pat on my head was a subtly proud one
as if my imagination was a prodigy.
But I knew they were real,
I knew they were there,
and we would always be together in an unspoken,
in a no way to describe,
in a different level kind of way.
As I grew more adept at seeing
sometimes I could sense hands,
or glimpse a turning away cheekbone,
blinkable flashes of muted color.
It was as natural as breathing,
until the day the natural stumbled
shuddering for a moment.
And there was an Other.
Other eyes upon me,
more predatory regard filling them.
And whispers and enticements and promises…
All I wanted
All I deserved,
All that I desired…
I only need open my hand,
The warning glances of a host of angel eyes were like a hail of
burning ice slashing across my face
and my feet knew they should run…
But a darker,
older part of me
suddenly rose up from the hidden space it slumbered unnoticed in
and filled my head with something hot and glittering
like potent mead made heavy with honey and firelight.
And with senses swimming in that drugged and wanton warmth,