Seeing Angels                                 

I used to believe 

I had words

to describe everything, 

until I saw your soul in the morning fog.

You were glistening,

and dancing with sparkles; 

naked and unprotected, radiant and  as pure,         

as the white light surrounding you.

I watched in awe as you lifted 

into the blinding white light, 

that turned a radiant shade of rose . . . 

before you suddenly 

vanished from sight.

Suddenly,

I found words and speech

so inadequate, 

and my soul so small.

For Sam …

©Joyce Burns February 2026

Chyna Blues Press

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