'No worst, there is none. Pitched past pitch
of grief.'
-Gerard Manley Hopkins
I see words like weeping clouds
and Beauty with no name out loud
the soli Deo gloria
bright words in exile.
where is Light I asked my heart
while they sing paeans to the Dark
and scattered colour everywhere
that children live in disrepair
imagination bolted to the floor
how is it they have changed your face
oh Poetry, the sign of Grace
and what was once such obvious disgrace
is lauded now
now where there are no Lauds
but infinite is the applause of circus crowds
for vacuous celebrity
and the trapeze swung in Vain.
Oh Lord of the vanished plains, noblesse
of stars, the wingspan of your flights
is mothlight trapped in jars
how is it without transfiguration
I view the endless night, real glory muted
in a new Dark Age
while all aspire it seems to naught
on every page
while I rage no beauty, truth or love is there
and store belles lettres in the vault
that none unlocks now,
or even knows how.
mary angela douglas 24 april 2018
