I was born your angel
not in the sense of the good girl
but in my role of fierce protector
my tiny hands were made to
drag you from your fears
to save you from yourself
and reignite your laughter when
you were in a tunnel of darkness.
I was born your angel
not that my wings were visible
nor that you dressed me in flowing white
but I was the defender of your vulnerability
against people far larger than me
and my words became a sword
that slayed your inner dragons
I was born your angel
not that I had a halo that ever fitted
but I trod the hallowed ground of keeping
you alive and manifesting anything you
needed in the material world
I was made from the same fabric as you
but somehow managed to express
my pattern differently
I was born your angel
so why now do I feel so helpless?
