There are angels,
so other-worldly you can only feel them –
where you can’t name or see or touch them
but know, on some level, like the soul, like the heart,
that they are the only thing holding you up
when all else falls away.
There are angels,
so earthly you can hold their hand,
hear their weeping as they sit with you in grief,
lean on them when your strength is wavering –
who get you a cup of a coffee
and bring over hot dish and jello salad
and lemon bars that will heal anyone.
There are angels
beyond number
spilling out and over the head of that pin,
flying through God
just above our head, below our feet,
within our heart –
and they come out singing.
-Rev. Luke Stevens-Royer, “A Song Must Be Sung”
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