and then it rained for days
we said, trying to explain
what couldn't be.
or she is captive in a far tower
and hour by hour spins
something into gold,
but what, we do not know
since no one told us.
all our lives we will imagine her
this way, working a pearl shuttle
through the stars to earn her way,
to break the spell of less
than velvet afflictions,
that all may be well in the kingdom;
and courting the favor of those
who do not allow her to grieve,
to leave the sting of condemnation behind.
but we, we couldn't condemn her for suffering
from blows we knew were not imaginary.
mary angela douglas 9 august 2016