THE HISTORY OF DREAMS, THE HISTORY OF WISHES UNTOLD
I wanted to write but not on stone
on water where it would flow away
the history of dreams, the history
of wishes never told
the children kept inside of them
as if their souls
were a rainbow bubble
that would burst
if exposed
so we kept still.
we did as we were told.
accumulating gold.
I wanted to write in a shining script
translucent as rose fragrances
the history of lilies, the history
of what is missing
what is always missing
of how the soul goes underground
in disasters and is hunted.
and would be ferreted out,
if it weren't for God
and His mysterious hiding places
because this is not in the books
they gave us
the ones we were tested on
and I have thought and longed to find
a reason to stop thinking of
why this must be so
that we learn dates, perhaps exports
the snakeskin lives of kings
why this one exported rubber
the other wouldn't dream of it
and oranges were kept
alive while the worlds froze.
I have emptied my soul into
several tributaries by now
thinking it would be found
or at least, the transcript.
the ship's water scarred manifests
and I am here to say as a
last, lost word to you perhaps
it just isn't so.
words can be buried
just as people can
while they're all still living.
one day one green leaf will
show above the ice
when the sun lingers too long
above the equatorial snows
and they will say, ah
an artifact.
but I will not be here
to know.
mary angela douglas 26 december 2017
I wanted to write but not on stone
on water where it would flow away
the history of dreams, the history
of wishes never told
the children kept inside of them
as if their souls
were a rainbow bubble
that would burst
if exposed
so we kept still.
we did as we were told.
accumulating gold.
I wanted to write in a shining script
translucent as rose fragrances
the history of lilies, the history
of what is missing
what is always missing
of how the soul goes underground
in disasters and is hunted.
and would be ferreted out,
if it weren't for God
and His mysterious hiding places
because this is not in the books
they gave us
the ones we were tested on
and I have thought and longed to find
a reason to stop thinking of
why this must be so
that we learn dates, perhaps exports
the snakeskin lives of kings
why this one exported rubber
the other wouldn't dream of it
and oranges were kept
alive while the worlds froze.
I have emptied my soul into
several tributaries by now
thinking it would be found
or at least, the transcript.
the ship's water scarred manifests
and I am here to say as a
last, lost word to you perhaps
it just isn't so.
words can be buried
just as people can
while they're all still living.
one day one green leaf will
show above the ice
when the sun lingers too long
above the equatorial snows
and they will say, ah
an artifact.
but I will not be here
to know.
mary angela douglas 26 december 2017
