There Is No Death But The One That We Imagine

[again, to Jesus, my kind Saviour]

green grace around no final shining hour
you gave to us. there is no death
but the one that we imagine

and we stand tremulous above the floods, impossibly
on a vanished bridge and try so hard
not to look down.

some day in the lost and found of
the moments we can't understand
may we take hold of your invisible hand

wounded, no more.
before the door you stand and wait
until our hearts anticipate and comprehend

that you are who we loved
since infancy in the lights above the crib.
in sunlight on the floor,

oh child of Christmas blooming for our sakes

and destitute what riches could you need
who brought to us even without our asking
the worlds without end; the soul

without pretenses.

mary angela douglas 29 august 2015