[to all those torn from their home for any reason
(and to the Living God) ]
always we were losing home
even when settled by the rivers of Your light
from the beginning blown
farther than far could ever be
when measured by the measurers.
but something soothes us, somewhere,
greenery of the greenest glade
and gladness bubbles like a
well-fed spring within though we're still
starving for what might have been
and in the open air despised
(it may be)
by those with solid houses.
in this world there is another world
and another and another:
nesting dolls in the mind of the mind.
each castle jeweled excessively
each one, in turn revealed, successively
and brighter and brighter diamond follows
pearl and so we are not lost though hurled
and stricken from doorstep to festive doorstep.
though they have taken everything but their
scorn from us who know, who feel-
beyond these bartered histories
and the unknown graveyards of the angel children,
the beggared years of our magnificat sustain:
oh, how unassailable remain
and cherishing-
the apricot rivers of Your light
mary angela douglas 8 october 2013
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