A Door Opens In A Cloud

(again, to William Blake)

a door opens in a cloud
when we say the name of God outloud
a flap appears in the sky

revealing fire rainbows when the wind lifts it
painted there by the high sign of the sun
around and through hexagonal crystals..

where will I sell
my painted enamelware
not door to door

or anywhere at all
it's layered colour on colour
finger painted joy,,.

she will revert to toys now
prognosticators say
in a psychiatric way

having no other language
to beg people to revere them in
but who asked them in anyway

my mind is sound and clear
and limpid, not-my-dears,
though you won't say so

so why would I hear them
hemming the music so it will fit
their rudimentary concepts

who do not fear the waning year
or that the clouds will drift away.
I was only here to say for a little while

let beauty unfold
like God when a cloud door opens
like a rose, the Original one

and joy is tipped flame to flame
you know like Pascal found one day
in remaindered sunsets

I have been one embroidered on the sun
I have been one long acquainted with Grace
you say whenever,

disregarding the cafeteria crowds,
their quizzical faces-
you'll say God's name outloud.

till He shakes the rainbows
out of the clouds.

mary angela douglas 1 march 2018

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