Our eyes do not waiver
From our witness
As children live their
First despair.
Awaiting your calls of help,
Soft flowers are our vigil
To adorn your child’s
Downy hair, the baton,
The power of the Light and Love
Of God
Assigned for holy care.
If we do not turn in prayer
Or believe or are aware
Of God, hovering, He stares too.
Do Angels sometimes feel
Helpless?
“Of course we do.”
Empathy is Poetry 