![Figure](https://www.cmaj.ca/content/cmaj/183/9/E607/F1.medium.gif)
Image courtesy of © 2011 Thinkstock
on a street without birds or church bells
dusky light streams through windows
to cast a serene puddle about the little girl.
on the threshold
onlookers stand as stone:
steel gazes fixed on a delicate face
as moon slivers of blue iris
flicker beneath heavy, swollen lids.
the little girl inhales
through thin, lavender lips:
an orchid unfolding
in forceful rhythm,
marked by the sharp rise and fall
of a soft, ballooning belly.
an ellipse forms around her:
hands clasp hands,
glances dodge glances, then redirect
to pierce the borders which enclose them —
at once curious, then resigned.
heavy breaths fill her chest
to beyond what it can hold.
her belly withdraws beneath her ribs —
a subtle, gradual surrender.
in the shadows
glances bend towards one another,
meet briefly
then fracture, fragment, drop as glass —
shards pooling amongst hesitant soles.
gold rays penetrate dust,
fall gently to anoint white cheeks
with a hint of blush,
then slip softly beyond the threshold.
fingers steeple,
glances soften, melt into one another,
then spill over the little girl,
resting, ever faithful,
bathed in morning light.