Poem – One Hundred Million Angles

One hundred million angels in white,
And one in a dark dark coat stand outside,
All in white sob, but the one in the coat just stands,

The Angles in white cry out loud your name,
Yet he remains still, not moving just staring down,
Staring on the ground,

He barely saw your face,
Couldn’t bear to look at you,
But he wondered, he wondered how do you do?

One hundred million angles in white singing,
The trumpets roar through the sky,
And he….he stands there, listening to the white angles crying,

There you go in front of everyone,
One hundred million angles or so look for the reason to blame,
As he still watches, with his head down in shame,

Voices screaming, voices crying,
But he doesn’t hear a sound,
Just stares down,

He can’t even take a water cup,
Can’t even stand on his own,
Even though he is in his own home,

And as they march,
He can’t hear the angels crying,
And he can’t see his heart slowly dying,

He just stood there,
Marching on and on,
Like a king looking for a throne,

And that angle couldn’t hear the trumpets,
He couldn’t hear the one hundred million angles singing,
Nor voices calling nor voices crying,

The Angle in Black,
He did forgive,
He did not forget,

As a thousand million white angles looked for a reason,
For the one they can accuse of treason,
The angel in black looked not for any reason,

He just looked, looked in the past,
Where life was beautiful,
The past that he wished to last,

And as they marched through the snowstorm,
The angle in black gathered his strength, he looked up to the sky,
Asking “why did my brother have to die?”

And with all his strength he looked up,
Through the snowstorm he saw a rainbow,
A rainbow in a snowstorm.