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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Eos: The Creative Context 
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