[to Mary, the mother of Jesus]
all your white legends,
folded into Time...
I stood in a whiter dew
and freezing
crying over the spent orchards.
this endless seige of
whiteness;
this murdering of snows.
and the perfumed winds
through the glass green blow
of what was once
your fortune told.
men have bartered it for gold.
they have bought and sold
and bought again
thinking they did not sin.
sure of their weight when
speaking of weighty matters.
what cassandra at the end of days
can say to you, oh, Holy Spirit,
Stay!
in the tender grass
of Aprils past
by the monuments to Mary
not yet desecrated.
mary angela douglas 22 december 2015
all your white legends,
folded into Time...
I stood in a whiter dew
and freezing
crying over the spent orchards.
this endless seige of
whiteness;
this murdering of snows.
and the perfumed winds
through the glass green blow
of what was once
your fortune told.
men have bartered it for gold.
they have bought and sold
and bought again
thinking they did not sin.
sure of their weight when
speaking of weighty matters.
what cassandra at the end of days
can say to you, oh, Holy Spirit,
Stay!
in the tender grass
of Aprils past
by the monuments to Mary
not yet desecrated.
mary angela douglas 22 december 2015
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