In The Margins Of Song We Will Live

in the margins of Song we will live
like the small birds after the rains
chirping near the puddles on the pavement

drinking the clouds.
how can I say outloud what I feel
in the public wayfares 

the heart could be stone
that listens there
the heart could be stone

write anywhere.
write on the pages of the sun
though like icarus you melt

into the uncomprehending sea.
write yourself into the music:
liberty.

mary angela douglas 31 march 2016