We Move Through Space

we move through space as through
transparencies of angels;
through time, as though

we never had left home.
and in the tower rooms
sometimes, we feel neglected;

yet sometimes feel,
we're truly not alone.
God on the bright winged days

is living still.
and high birdsong among
the sheltering trees.

and all that's made of anguish
sifts like snowfall
beyond the mind's

imaginative seas.
still may we write in gold
our soul's deep journey

or linger long
in childhood's violet wood
or carry in our hearts

the great locked secrets
of all that's true,
and beautiful

and good.
let news of the outside, rumors
cast away

and leave us here
as contemplation's wards.
that God set between us and the dead-

forever vivid, each noetic Word.
until the day
the dream is vindicated;

accusing fact stands cowering
near the door
and flees into the night

that's never ending
while we in hope depart
for green lit shores.

mary angela douglas 24 may 2016