I Rest In The Mysteries

I rest in the Mysteries though

they tell me not to, or seem to-

with pointed glances and amused

almost to imply

how dim I am to dream

I hold His light within such small hands

but I remember when

alone, outside, and as a child

I stood so still in a singular ray of light

inhabiting Happiness near the flower beds

and in a ruffled wind.

why not now as then

though many years have gone

and though the light comes down so hard

on these scant modern scenes

on winter afternoons.

alone, within, I keep the music still of

Light, like Love that cannot change,

whatever filtered through.

His gold glows all the same

and in my heart

and I am not ashamed

whether particle or wave's

remaindered here.

mary angela douglas 21 november 2014