With hope for healing, our hearts' reconciliation. Dawn

In the nursing home we stood
and sang, doing what we could
to bring hope to the dying,
our blessings multiplying
in giving. Our voices raised
in unity, angels gazed
into my eyes and yours. We
couldn’t speak, but let it be.
Same spark of glory entered
in and both our hearts were stirred.

Another morning I rose
to praise in song. Lined in rows,
we shared hope of eagle’s wings,
of restoration, of things
which remain a mystery.
There in that sanctuary
appeared an angel golden.
I was taken, beholden
to the miraculous glow.
I thank God I didn’t know

What dark, diabolical
plotting, so illogical,
unfolded in steely hearts
accustomed to fast, false starts.
That morning they could not see
another way, what could be.
They missed angelic presence,
source of joy, effervescence.
I would have shared it but who
would have believed after you.

But I think you know truth I speak;
an angel bent, kissed your cheek
the night before the world crashed,
before the Thursday you lashed
out like a madman never
to say what I had ever
done to cause you any pain.
By then angels had gone, rain
fell for years. We remember
angels, winds of September.

Angels we have heard and seen;
they have followed where we’ve been.
Ours is now the gift to bring
to the manger. Let us sing
of peace on earth, goodwill toward men.
May our hearts be new again.
Listen for a higher song.
Let’s let love repair our wrong.
May we come to the stable,
forgive as we are able?