THE GIRL IN THE STORE
B. Goodjoin 2017
She was born without words; her voice left in the corner of heaven from whence she came.
She could barely see, eyes having been exposed to His majesty.
She touched my face to say hello—goodbye,
As she was led into the store that day.
Her feet were huge and cumbersome, having been twisted in the womb.
Her back was humped and burdened by a spine bent over with pain.
She touched my face to say hello—goodbye,
As she was led into the store that day.
She was in a chair made of metal– wheels silently glided down the aisle with grace.
One could not see the pain for the smile on her face.
I leaned to her; let her touch my face
To say hello—goodbye that day.
Her mom called me at the store, to come sit by her side.
her baby lay on white sheets—her breath beginning to subside.
I touched her face, and kissed her now closed eyes
to say hello–goodbye for the last time that day.
Outside the air was still; I shared with it my tears
For she would not come back the store again, as she had for many years.
Then I felt a breeze that touched my tear stained face
That said hello—goodbye again to me that day