Necklace

could it be made of small stars

she asked the Fashioner softly

so that nothing could catch fire

in the vicinities

or carved from ivoried snows

to be worn in extreme cold, quarried

from a warmer rose, rosepetal stictched to

an even seam

even seeming like spring

at the earliest, set off

by pale green velvets,

the mazy motion of the trees.

I am setting off she prayed

on a journey that has no end.

make it from light, my Father

or wrists of rainbows

braclets of the miraculous

spanning the unshed tears,

the underpasses

overlooking the crevasse

over which I must pass

heart-rended, even without shoes

slipping on the pearl of Your shadow...

moon painted, bright beyond wonder

so that I may not forget You

mary angela douglas 24 december 2013