Glass Angel

September 8, 2008

I wrote this poem shortly after my mother’s death. It was the holiday season and that Christmas I had gotten her a glass angel wrapped in a beautiful white coat. She never got a chance to see the angel.

Deep blue eyes
I realize
The faux fur is not pretend
It’s you again.
Watching me
All you see
Hear the words I say
Things I pray
Your face cold to the touch,
But you still feel so much.
Standing still on the stand
You were made in China by a man
Who had no idea what you’d possess
Me with the comfort of thinking that she’s
With the smoothness of music so clear
My heart can cross near and far
In one parallel
Reaching out and crying to a glass angel.

Tabitha Castillo


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