sometimes in the heart of living things,there's
a wish to be ferried across the violet waters
to plant our small flags in the vicinity of stars...
gliding to harp strings elliptical
when you aren't the only one
to whom the angels cry:
you don't know who you are.
sometimes the soul slips out of sight
a silver ship on a vanishing horizon
and you rub your eyes
not believing what you see.
will the angels come for me
my little sister whispered terrified
at Christmas tide
when she heard the heralding song
not yet I said
filling her hands with tangerines
as bright as suns;
not yet, till Kingdom come
will you lean like Roses lean
out of our backyard,
pink petaled, gone some otherwhere
outside Time's slipstream.
and it won't be hard.
mary angela douglas 24 november 2017
a wish to be ferried across the violet waters
to plant our small flags in the vicinity of stars...
gliding to harp strings elliptical
when you aren't the only one
to whom the angels cry:
you don't know who you are.
sometimes the soul slips out of sight
a silver ship on a vanishing horizon
and you rub your eyes
not believing what you see.
will the angels come for me
my little sister whispered terrified
at Christmas tide
when she heard the heralding song
not yet I said
filling her hands with tangerines
as bright as suns;
not yet, till Kingdom come
will you lean like Roses lean
out of our backyard,
pink petaled, gone some otherwhere
outside Time's slipstream.
and it won't be hard.
mary angela douglas 24 november 2017
