silverly, oblivious to gloom;
meticulous as to rainbows, glittering,
not at all consumed.
oh we will resume the history of music
long before these wars have ceased:
the word of brightness leafed among leaves,
flowered among flowers, heightened beyond, old griefs.
was there ever any doubt, you said to yourself,
you said to yourself when all you knew
was clinging to the bright word in the disasters
and bartering nothing till it wore through.
and then when we went outside
to see the world anew,
the skies themselves lay shattered;
the friends remaining, few.
but I have heard the word of brightness
echoing lately in the dell
and so with the angels, bent to the task,
though few have wished me well.
hark, say the poets before me
who survived this hell: wait for the Light;
for the Word of lightning to dispel
that God may provide, and Christ as well,
this springtide overnight, this fountaining green,
mary angela douglas 6 july 2016