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The Healing Angels ©

Irene McIsaac
Whitby, Ontario, Canada

'Tis the eve of Christmas
And, as on other days,
She travels along the lakeshore
Admiring the ever changing scenery
Through the windows of the train

Sunbeams dancing on chilly waters
Snow covered driftwood strewn across the sands,
Sparkling icicles hanging from cottage eaves
Occupy her thoughts and help her forget
The purpose of her journey

Towering glass structures draw nearer
As the city skyline comes into view,
Travellers don their hats and gloves
Bracing themselves for the frosty air
Awaiting them on the platform

Bustling streets filled with last minute shoppers,
Cheerful musicians rendering Santa jingles,
Vendors roasting chestnuts on windy corners
And colourful pigeons scavenging for food
As she hurries to keep her appointment

Warm air greets her as she enters the building
Bringing a soft glow to her frozen cheeks
Voices ringing in the atrium
Carolers banded together, rejoicing
"Hark the Herald Angels Sing - Glory to the Newborn King"

Familiar faces seated in the waiting room
Yet, all strangers with a common bond
Soldiers gallantly fighting their own individual battle
In a war against this universal disease
Each hoping and praying for a victory

Equipment in place and calibrated
Therapists hurriedly leaving the room
While she lies very still, deep in her thoughts
Sensing their presence, seeing their auras
And wondering, "Will they bring the gift of Christmas?"

"When I am impatient for results,
help me slow down and wait
for God's answer."

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