There are angels here
I can feel them
It's a feeling that cuts to the bone

They're thick around us
At least one hundred to every one of us
Perhaps a thousand

I can see them when I close my eyes
Halos extending up to heaven
Wings encircling my bed

I arise at four A.M. for the first wake up call
But there is no time in this silence
The men lie like rag dolls in their bunks, dreaming

And there are the angels, standing watch
Bright like rainbows, blinding in the darkness of the early morning
Hovering over their swords planted in the floors of the shelter

I quietly whisper at the thatch of tousled hair sticking up from the pillow
"Time to wake up"
Suddenly, he's alive, "Already?"

As I glide from bed to bed
I think I know what it is like to be an angel
Conducting souls from the life of the flesh into the realm of spirit

Hours later, the shelter is bustling, sunlight is streaming in
Men are eating breakfast, sweeping, tossing linen into the basket
And then it is quiet, empty

I think the angels have gone now too, mostly
Perhaps one or two left
As I ride my bike away, there's one soaring above me, as high as the sun

The city streets look different in this morning light
Expectant