An Angel Waits for the Bus
Soraya Renteria © 2007
She sits in front of the weather-beaten building, seeing the people pass by
The wind dances with her bleached hair, a golden halo,
Her teenage face bloated from the embrace of pregnancy,
What do they think she is?
Sinner, they call her behind their hands
The devil got a hold of her, so they say
Jade, hazel, aquamarine eyes all the same to her,
The sun smolders in the sky an interrogatory light
Making her sweat,
Who do you think you are?
She holds her swollen belly, a protruding maker of her mistake,
Once in a while a smile shoots her way,
Poor lost soul, their pity drowns her,
She wears anger as a cloak, to keep the pain away
There is nothing else to do, nowhere to hide,
The wind slaps her face as she waits
She sees cars drive by, sees their passengers stare,
Pity, disgusts, hypocritical smiles,
It hurts to breathe, her head hangs low from her neck,
Her hair a veil, what do they matter?
They are everything and she is nothing,
A mistake, a failed attempt at perfection.
Move on, forget that she's there
She never gives up hopping that it is a nightmare
What of the life growing inside her tarnished body
Spawn of sin, she sees it in their eyes
Love is a façade, an aversion of the eye
The bus shambled up, her eyes on the pavement she stands,
Nobody moves to help her as she wobbles up the steps.