(This was written for a member of one of my poetry groups who had just lost her husband and was feeling extremely sad. She said she didn't believe there were any angels in the world any more, so I wrote this in response.)
Your angels are crying right by your side,
Their tears wash the dust from
your feet.
They share your fear of the future's unknown
They too fear the
fire's heat.
They, too, ask of heaven, "Why must this be?
Isn't this
asking too much?"
Then they brush your hair out of your eyes
And love you
with their gentle touch.
Theirs are the tears that turn into the
rain.
Sometimes the flood waters flow.
No matter what happens, they are
with you.
The angels want you to know.
© 2002
Pam H. Murray
May 30, 2002
No comments:
Post a Comment