when will the white birds rise
from an alien music
when will the spell
burn off and their
widening cadence free
the radiance hardly missed-
the mute years ,
uncherished solace?
when will the white words rise
like snow lifted upwards
into a dome-like Heavenly requital
by winds so deeply
filled with stars?
bright as a bridal evanescence
a fragile opalescence, over-spun
suddenly to anyone appearing
through the sheer skies that have no need
no longer thrash with wings
your still-born air
everything there is to bear
already has been borne
and light is near:
let lamentation die
and swerve, swerve away
from the ancient coasts of sorrow
(and tears inlaid with tears)
when the white birds rise
mary angela douglas 28 october 2008
*refering to the Celtic myth "The Children of Lir"
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