Arms of the Angel

by Carolyn Donnell
copyright 2009

On the arms of the Angel
a line from a song
The hum of the music
rises to my tongue
whenever I see
gray-haired
bent ladies wobbly
walkers crossing
at lights
insufficient time to catch the train
closed doors don’t wait, schedules to keep.
Guy in the wheelchair.
Unwashed,feeble, maneuvering down
Main Street. To where?
veteran of wars
sent to kill
returned home
to die untended.
Mothers with children
no home to keep.
Bankers’ golden balloon.
Others, no place to sleep.
Where are the families,
sons, daughters or friends?
Church and charity they say
but too often they really pray,
“Thank you God, I am not like them.”
Where is the angel for all of these?
Are angels that selective and few?
On the arms of the Angel,
do you have one?
Lucky you.


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