The Truth About Angels

My mentor came to take my hand
And with a voice so kind,
Said, “Come along and we shall see
What angels we can find.”

I took her hand and from far off
I saw a girl so fair,
With eyes that shined like brilliant stars
And hands worn down from care.

I tugged my mentor’s shirt a bit.
I said, “I see one there!
Far off there is an angel, Miss.
The one with auburn hair!”

My mentor saw and smiled a smile
That did not touch her eyes.
“She'll never be an angel, dear.
She isn’t the right size.”

I frowned a bit but walked along.
I saw a little boy.
He spoke so kindly to his friends.
His eyes were full of joy.

My mentor frowned and shook her head.
She solemnly remarked,
“He's not an angel. Step away.
His skin is much too dark.”

This didn't make much sense to me,
But still I walked along.
Then, suddenly, I heard a voice.
'Twas soft, but proud and strong.

I saw a woman praising God
With nothing but her song.
“I'm sure she is an angel, Miss”,
I said, “And I'm not wrong.”

But still my mentor shook her head.
Said, “No, of this I'm sure.
She can't afford expensive things.
No, Heaven’s not for her.”

I slowly pulled my hand away.
I said, “This isn’t fair.
Why should it matter how you look?
What kind of clothes you wear?

I don't recall a certain size
That angels have to be.
Ma’am, Heaven is for everyone,
Including you and me.”

I stepped away and watched her eyes
Go wide with disbelief.
I felt so free without her hand,
And breathed out in relief.

I said, “There are some angels here
I think you might have missed.
For if these three aren't angels, ma’am,
Then angels don't exist.”