the way trees grow in dreams
their roots out toward the stars
when the great storms come
I wanted an art song made of this
in an unwritten language.
oh I felt wistful on the looking glass side
looking back at home and its inversions missed.
I wanted to grow like trees in dreams
and so I thought of this
sending this message, waking from one.
one dream like a sigh with a faint imprint on the morning
I have left for you here.
when you are clouded
reading your lines.
when the silver shoes you've shod.
things lined in velvet disappear
roots first, defecting,
into God.
mary angela douglas 24 september 2019
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