Though It Isnt Taught That Way

history is the winding of dreams of each dream
of each person the day you went away not knowing
you wouldnt return

but it isnt taught that way and so the children stir
uncomfortably in their seats as the candy coloured maps
come down, the mountains in relief

the map key I could never understand
where is the key that turns in  the lock of
the house that Jack built what is the ticking of time

what makes it rhyme inside of me
where is the two plus two of it where does it reside
it is not the signing of treaties

the deposition of kings and who was next in line
but it is taught that way when do we find it out
what makes it tick inside of us when we are new

on the scene when the grass is the greenest green
the sky blue as cornflowers how did they feel
does anyone know when they passed through

the mountain pass and I dont care how large the tracts were
when the territory was sold I want to know the flare, the
tally of the soul the soul Whitman cried

holding the sprig as Lincoln passed by no longer under
his own power the man of the hour but the one denied
like Christ denied; each person

the soul inside flaring up then going out
that is history more than what was exported
what came to your door in a midnight summons

with the choirs of angels when time gave out
like a worn out shoe or a hand me down dress and the soul stood up in its
sad magnificence to say each in its own way

I am going away it said inside of each of you
will say again when floating away I am saying goodbye
to all the inner countries I only half knew

I never knew or only half remembered
now I will see you as you are.

beyond the wagon wheels, the farthest Star.
and Bethlehem understood.

mary angela douglas 10 october 2019