Gift

The other children said
he had crazy eyes
and made fun
of how his mother dressed him
and refused to understand
why he liked strange colors
and would not play
with his toys.
They could not get used to
the voices he heard,
or how he traced their faces
with his fingers
and pronounced them good
and were scared
of the way his hands made music
from plain air.
They misread his language
and thought he conjured demons
in the quiet glade
where no birds sang.
But the boy only shrugged
and smiled quietly to himself
at their puzzles.
You see,
he knew the gift of imperfection
its fierce magic
and how to catch beauty
and turn bad luck into an omen

and that different was a fine art
that would one day
save the world.