Thursday, December 22, 2016

Sometimes It Makes Me Sad

sometimes it makes me sad
to think of the vanished cities
the ones of desert mirage

the ones bombed out
in wars we don't remember
the childhood blocks tumbled down,

oil rainbows in the garage
old raincoats, galoshes in the front hall closet
the game pieces lost

in summers, on picnics,
amid the tall grasses.
the beaded frocks, the looking glasses,

the floral printed, fading.
the butterfly broken hands
of the cloisonne clocks, the midnight tokens

of God's grace, remaining.

I think of this in deep winter
or on the cusp of Spring.
is it really possible

they are all gone, the citadels?
the carols about the golden rings
the continents of memory

breaking apart.the myrrh of wings
presented to the Infant King
the wounded heart in the stories

come back to life.the songs the
babies sing in the dark
or it may be, their angels sing

the islands washed over.
the bride and bridegroom adrift on the cake
the coral kingdoms under the sea.

old coupons, no longer redeemable.
the way the world was dreamed
is dreamed, before we awake

the wavering colors in the mirror of the sky
the way they looked to me then, moire, moire,
the gold decked, the beautiful, beckoning.

mary angela douglas 22 december 2016