Strange Angel

Strange Angel

I am not a religious woman, 
but an angel appeared
today in the woods. 

I was tangled in leashes,
blue sack mitten and
no free hands. 

“I’ll take it,” she beamed,
descending from sky.
Bag untied, steam rising
like prayer, I stretched out
a hand. She received
my humble offering.  

Photo by Marek Studzinski on Unsplash

The Prompt

For starters, yes, this really happened. A total stranger smilingly took a steaming bag of dog shit from my hand, tied it in a knot, and threw it away for me. I wasn’t even that tangled up in leashes. I was handling it—I mean, I wasn’t enjoying handling it, but I had things basically under control.

There are a few details I left out of the poem that make her kindness no less kind but certainly less strange—she was already carrying a poop bag herself and was headed in the direction of the trash, whereas I was not. But still—what an angel of a person! And how wonderfully strange to be so kind in this world. Or maybe it’s not strange. It’s been one of those weeks where I seem to bump into kindness at every turn. Bumping into things doesn’t always leave us bruised. We bump into loveliness, too—which is why I felt compelled to take a picture of this sign.

Getting to know all of you here and reading your poems feels like bumping up against blossoms.

Alright, friends, I’ve got two options for you today, depending on the particularities of your boat floatiness. Prompt option number one: strangers! Go interact with a few of them, or take a stroll down memory lane. Are there particular encounters that have stayed with you? It’s so easy to rush past one another. To view the cashier in the grocery store as a fleshy machine there to provide a service, rather than as a living, breathing human with an inner life as real as yours. What would it be like to run an errand and stay totally awake to the aliveness and uniqueness of every human you encounter? Can you feel the difference when a stranger views you this way? Take some time with these experiences and reflections. There may be more than one poem vying for your attention!

Or you can write a poem inspired by . . . shit. Literal shit. Metaphorical shit. Dog shit. Bird shit. Everyone has something in their life that feels like shit, and everyone has a shit story to tell (or hide). Just take this wherever it wants to go. I look forward to reading your poems (though I might make a point of not eating while I do so).