26d • General discussion
The Devil Who Truly Was an Angel
He called himself the devil
but I saw his light.
Said it like a warning.
But I didn’t flinch.
Because I too worked for the devil—
wore his chains,
spoke his language,
until I learned to unspell myself.
I saw the angel in him—
not fallen, just lost.
Like I was.
I recognized the fear.
The light he still had
but couldn’t hold.
He ran.
Not from me,
but from the mirror I became.
And in his silence,
I heard everything.
I always wanted to be a teacher and dancer.
And with our story,
I taught.
And I danced.
He made us both sad.
But sadness is sacred
when it breaks you open
to your own becoming.
He was an angel.
He just didn’t know.
But I did though.
And through his words and music,
he made my soul grow.
by Rosalind P. Steed
I wrote this poem about a man I met — the same man I wrote about in my book The Devil I Didn’t Meet.
Have you ever mistaken someone’s warning for who they truly were — and what did their presence (or their silence) end up teaching you about yourself?
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The Devil Who Truly Was an Angel
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