off in the distances Your faraway names
the ones we cannot earn drift in and out of
music, sleep, the fits of saints
from lucid diamond dreaming we wake up too soon
interrupted by our own weeping
weeping for what? for whom?
for what might have been had we obeyed?
but you left us the moon, certain roses,
the celloed light haloed in the dark chambers
colours. trees. so much.
the fairy touch of snow- its fiery purity.
they call you cruel. they say you just command.
I know there's something else to understand o
Beautiful. Most Kind. Our vanished Jeweled Cloud as suddenly
appearing in the years we mistook for wilderness
oh charmed is our banishment from You
who could not leave us! whenever we may turn
amid the foreign wastelands of our race to trace
like children mystified and glad:
your sovereign evergreen handwriting
mary angela douglas 22 november 2014
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