The Land Of Going Away

[after the tale of Hansel and Gretal}

this is all that we have left, we said to ourselves-
in the Land of Going Away;
the flood waters at our feet fresh purled

still swirling-
and up on high,
the bridge of the sky.

this is what we will carry
in our hands to the rainbow lands;
the ones we've almost seen

on breaks from work
half watching the clouds,
the clouds that are trees,

soft green, and rippling in
finite mirrors there; in the parking lots.
after the rain.

someday in the woods
the little house roofed with candy
and no witches will appear and

bright with the raspberry shrubs.

but today today we shift our loads
and long for home and cry at mud
still here to stay perpetually

with breadcrumbs in our hands;
at the party with the light refreshments;
while the Earth beneath us fades-

and golden nights become black days in the Land of Going Away.

mary angela douglas 4 january 2016