Walking in the cemetery this morning, I ran into my better angel,

she was on a tombstone, in a beautiful carving, holding a small child,

in an eternal embrace. She is so beautiful,

I knew her right away.

Hey, I said, what are you doing here?

Oh, she said, I promised I would hold young Evelyn,

when she left this world, she was just a baby,

I come and go.

How are you?, she asked,

you’ve had quite the summer.

Yes, I said, I thought I might see you,

in the hospital, I said.

Oh, I was there, she said,

I was the old man whose hand you

held before his surgery,

the one that did not return to the ICU,

I was the nurse with the sore feet,

who took you on your first lap,

hobbling behind you.

I was the girl from the Ukraine,

who spoke no English,

but who wiped the sweat from your brow in the night.

I was the man who cried with you,

he said he was afraid he would never see his son again.

I am the wind at your back,

your will to live,

your need to walk.

I am the hill you come over every morning

without pain in your chest. I am your beating heart,

your better angel.

Come, and sit with me,

and Evelyn,

we will hold hands,

and let the morning sun kiss our faces,

and count our blessings.