I Saw Grace in Strangers

 I stood in the shadow of uncertainty’s grip,

where hope and fear tangled inside my chest.
I felt time slow near hospital walls,
as my wife waited — silent, strong, and blessed.

I saw her eyes, calm but deep with ache,
and I heard my own breath echo with doubt.
I felt helplessness like smoke around me,
a storm inside, trying to break out.

I made calls — desperate, anxious,
blood was needed, answers few.
I saw familiar names go silent,
and strangers’ names suddenly break through.

I watched as someone I’d never known
stepped forward, his blood a quiet gift.
No questions asked, no need for thanks —
just a hand held out in the rift.

I saw friends’ wives appear like light,
holding my wife's hand when mine shook.
They didn't say much — just were there,
and that was all it took.

I felt the walls hold their breath with me,
as life came close to the edge of pain.
And then — a cry. So pure.
A child’s voice cutting through the rain.

I saw the divine in a stranger’s face,
in unspoken prayers and quiet grace.
I felt God walking through that ward,
not in robes, but in hearts that stayed hard.

I understood then — love needs no name,
no title, no bond written in stone.
It moves in silence, through human hands,
and leaves us never quite alone.

I saw kindness wear no uniform.
I felt hope in a man’s simple “yes.”
In that storm, I saw what truly saves —
compassion, in its humblest dress.

And when the fear began to fade,
I looked back with tearful eyes —
I didn’t see angels in the sky that night,
but I saw them walking, in disguise.