the layered angels colouring the skies
it must have been that way in infancy
the pale hints of rose, of amethyst of lavender
the laughing stripe of lemon there
where? said someone there you pointed
grass stained, seeing Elijah in the trees.
o verse is made of stars and mire
perhaps you wept a little later coming to terms
the angels at your side whispering in gold:
print this to the world in water-coloured sighs
in words of fire, oh England oh belittling
neighborhoods.
he was there among you painting the sour skies
above you with an unseen hand
glad as the merry lambs, sorrowing in your sorrow:
could you not have been kinder?
mary angela douglas 6 october 2014
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