In the Arms of an Angel

“In the arms of an angel”:

music playing,

sunlight slanting through leaded lights,

the chapel stark and half empty,

the black coats before him as the men walked slowly in,

the floral tribute trembling

as they carried the coffin forward.

“In the arms of an angel”

someone was singing.  He couldn’t see

any angels

but it would be nice if they could be

listening somewhere.

She had passed from here

while still in the grip of that incurable disease

we call hope, in which

the angels are always attentive

and we are the heart of their song.

He discovered, as he took his place in the front pew

that she had, after all, left a little of her hope behind.

“In the arms of an angel

may she rest already safe,” he prayed,

as the minister cleared his throat

to read the verses.