We Are Stricken

we are stricken

and we don't know how

to heal ourselves

without invisible music-

listen to the coolness

of clouds

hold them against your

forehead when you're sick;

string them on your

brightest tree and you are

branching, too, like the sheer

snow branches and then

falls away through all the

fairytale woods...

but you

are ornamented beyond these finite fields.

you will go back the

amber way you came-

and shine-

mary angela douglas 9 august 2008