Bone Angel (inspired by Elie Wiesel’s Night) By Emily Albrecht Curled up in the snow A starving child shivers in his sleep, a spiral of frosted bones Waiting on a world that’s kinder to him. Goosebumps ripple over him in waves, a tide that tries to keep his blue skin safe To no avail.
Pale and frail with hypothermia A wilting lobelia with sealed dead petals You hear his teeth crunch, grinding like they want to crumble themselves to powder Grinding like it will ease the ache of death he glimpses Outside the realm of dream.
Oblivion buzzes in his ears like a swarm of locusts As his mind lies waiting, praying at the gates of Purgatory Wandering through empty grey splotches of fog Waiting for God to claim him If he would please claim him.
The sun rises for a trembling pastel dawn A ribcage dotted with flesh stretches to open the lungs it protects, in and out, in and out, Until the stretches subside and the child finally dies. The bone angel drenched in soft morning light is still visible to the eye, frozen in time, All curled up in the snow.