How To Read The Music When You Are Far From Home

wind is the same:
still silver, clear blue.
passing through

and grasses
wet with dew
starlit in your mind.

you close the door.
and colours as they were before-
return.

yearn not for what is gone.
carry on, they say.
and yet, there is another way

inside
beyond the protocols of
disaffecting days

what is called memory
opens the door 
into the room called Beauty:

white curtained,
scent of the gardenia,
the little gardened way:

where you have always-
stayed...

mary angela douglas 21 may 2016