Or What They Were

the snow crowned disappearing swans
or what they were I have watched
where a milk white dawn disguised

their vanishing;
into my heart, I cried.
you could have fled

but you did not yet
who would believe me
if I cried:

they have gone. who has gone
sighed children with their bouquets
and then moved on.

they have gone and the tournaments
of our imaginations with them

slain by those who came after,
whose signet is impatience.
progress they say is everything

or if they do not say, they mean
that everything in disguise
cannot serve them.

how will I call them back
I ask my Lord
but He is also in disguise

and with them
and wears the look
if one could look at the sun directly

or all the myriad suns
in the conflagration of original love,
of the one in original exile

pleading our cause.

mary angela douglas 29 july 2016