Sometimes It Is True That We Are Breathing Sand

sometimes it is true that we are breathing sand
and find it difficult to walk even the small hills
when we have had our fill of the unanswered

questions, conversations muted
the vow of beauty remembered no more.
then I think of trees and worlds on worlds

of green and the oxygen of kindness.
I imagine kindness, real freedom. I think what if there were suddenly
small rainbows over all the brooks at once

and all the books opened to the very page you need
and were singing, only to you.
sometimes we make our own oxygen

sometimes we must.
for all the times
it turns to rust.

mary angela douglas 14 march 2018