Holy Mary Mother Of The Sequined Light

[to the Lord Jesus, the only once and future, King
and to Poetry]

Holy Mary, Mother of the sequined Light
where Love does not pretend;
casting up roses on the uncomprehending

darknesses again
we beseech you, pray;
for the margins of gold are thin

for the chidren with half wings
who would take flight from this, an
unrelenting night;

from this
tormenting earth where
Love should not pretend.

begin from the alphabet of my tears
to reconvene, sad Years! the
orphaned languages; the fears

that where we turned, dreaming it was His Kingdom, was in vain;
and now the rains have come; o may the floods not engulf us.

Mary, of the tongue cut Light defend

the ravaged who would be gold and glad, again;
bluer than sapphires on a summer day's singing wave;
truer than, to the One, the only One who saved,

who saves Forever.
The ONLY TRUE:

here in the singing, singeing sounds of mystical Poetry
where we would survive to find in a distant Spring
it is we ourselves will burst suddenly into fine

green leaves and the little birds border us round.

mary angela douglas 20 november 2015;29 february 2016