Meditation On The Children Of Lir

their sunset transformations back
from men to birds
long have I pondered

when the dusk surrounds
us here
and the wind whirls up

in peculiar vortexes
sparkling.
and then, the toiling of wings
and not the tolling of bells
the breaking of the spell but
the updraft carries them

and flung out over seas
the bright wings beat relentlessly
without release from pain.

so has the soul its exigencies
its duress though it's unseen
and not at all clear to our friends that we

transform and transform again
while speaking of nothing
in the afternoons and

caught in the world of men
ah, birdlike I would be, I would have been
floating as clouds and mirrored in the

seas which to me
from this vantage point on the ground
quite often has seemed to be

the indisputable emblem of
untrammeled freedom,
and not captivity.

mary angela douglas 25 july 2017