Tuesday, December 06, 2016

There Was A Language Before We Came

there was a language before we came
soft gold molten as the summer rains
and formed of mist

of the sough of branches
on a wind burned sky
and shadows in pre

whose words were snow
and grew, opal by opal,

storied, and old
the jewels falling out of it
one by one

like something outworn?
have they torn my soul
I cried when I found it,

have they torn my page
from the book of life
that they have consigned my words

to the yellow flecked tides
in exile, every one?

mary angela douglas 6 december 2016