I read about a woman
who sees angels, everywhere:
two around an older man
walking down the street,
offering support on either side;
a glowing group on a playground,
watching over children sprinting about;
a luminous being of light
whispering into the ear of a forlorn soul
resting on a bus bench.
We all have them near us, she says,
but they do not interfere
unless we ask. So, the asking
is the key, I learn.
Since then, more often than not,
when I call to my angels, a speedy
and clear answer comes. Once
we were lost, driving circles in a
foreign city, and I remembered to ask.
The second I did, the GPS rerouted
and we were directed to our destination.
One other time, I was led to a gopher hole
where a dear friend’s earrings had fallen
from her lap. Her mother was dying
and I had asked that I could give her
this gift, at least.
Seeing is believing and these days I believe.
