What Stood Out

The three time I saw her and the one I didn't

The first time I saw her, what stood out were her eyes.

Too large for her malnourished face they stood out a striking green.

Yet they were so dull, not a shine to be seen,

and it broke my heart.

The second time I her, what stood out were the bruises.

Molted yellows and greens mixing a pattern across her face.

Yet her skin still looked as thin and fragile as lace,

and it broke my heart.

The third time I saw her, what stood out was her hunch.

Her body curled into itself for protection from the world.

Yet her long stringy hair billowed out unfurled,

and it broke my heart.

The time I didn't see her, what stood out was the black.

Of the priest, of the diggers, of the strangers in black.

Yet I dressed in white while they dressed in black,

for her soul was now free and my heart was uncracked.