I have never forgotten you
since childhood's breathless sighting
impressed you on the pink and cream of my mind;
in each succeeding year and cherished just the same
though your petals
have blown far, far from these demesnes
of fear, of dying for our daily bread
of wondering, wandering inside my head:
what has the world to do with you
that still, your fragrance holds;
your colours and the beauty of your opening
onto wars; within, without and everywhere
hidden behind faux doors of gold, the merciless.
if I forget you, kingdom of the rose
how will my soul know how to
blossom into death?
the breath of God
on waking again.
mary angela douglas 12 april 2016