["Why then, will we not turn our eyes toward the stars? Why?"
-Mikhail Bulgakov The White Guard]
I am the tree of white
and the petals that float to earth
with music on every page
unending-
at the heart of the rose is
a white word: a drift of
near-silence
and irrevocable solace
beyond flowering,
rimmed with light: at
times, overflowing-
living, living as this
branch of blossoming words
I am
commending the stars to earth
and hoping you will remember
mary angela douglas 20 march 2005
copyright 2006
