Songs My Mother Taught Me;Also My Grandmother, Grandfather, The Books On The Turquoise Shelves

I write my name on blank paper
in rounded letters
feeling I am the colour of snow

the glow in the window

at Christmas, home,
knowing the things I know
you will not teach me, you could not teach me

because I learned them there
and I am so happy from the
knowledge that you do not know

despite my snowiness, you will not know
that already I have learned
so many things

the State will not require.
the angel choirs in dreaminess
the way that bells on the wind

will make me feel inspired and that
it is God who summons me then to
the fairy stories glittering

first in English in my head
the chrism of that
you will deny

because you learned as teachers
fairy stories are suspect now
in the space age

quiet children must be watched

too late I would have said
if I had known
with airy delight

I am already theirs
and they are mine
the beautiful things

and I am delighted now
that God arranged it so finely
that I should know what I know

from those who loved me best
and did not put me to the test
and write my name on God's

great golden scroll
even as I grow older, seemingly,
in cursive writing starlit still,

joy filled in the secret told.

mary angela douglas 18 february 2018