To You, Reading Over My Shoulder

to you, reading over my shoulder,

may you find light in unexpected places

may the afternoon suddenly be wrapped in tissue;

ornamented with impossible stars waiting for you

to unwrap: soft pearl bright ribbons of the borealis

may it all unravel like a forgotten birthday.

we are untaught to take the sky-blue end of the crepe paper streamer and

keep following it

I’ll hold the other end

just as if it were a holiday neither one knew about.

there must be cake in here somewhere

they make you look for bitter things in your line of work.

or do they?

let’s pretend I cried only to the wind

you are in a honeycomb, believe me.

do not take burnished flight

until you reach the end of the story, even though-

how could I know the ending you were meant to find,

invisible watcher, watched over by God

reading over my shoulder

or Icarus, in the archives in the very clouds are

the blueprints into freedom someone somewhere stashed 

with a beauty overflowing, a glance over the shoulder

in the kernel of the word within the Word.

(in the government of  God, My King)

mary angela douglas 13 june 2013,27 november 2014