the beautiful thing preserved in God's own amber
is the subject of my poem today
because on earth there were too many herods
cutting the unbudded rose away
and who knows what else before dawn
hauled before their firing squad in its luminescence still
and made to pay and made to go
permanently away
then the king is so happy
until the wisemen say
oh we have seen some Star in the East..
how else the mystery
the beautiful artist discovered too late
long gone from the gated earth
the earth that makes him wait or her
and wait and wait and languish
with no pay no sigh of recognition
in his day or hers.
be sure the angels notice this iniquity.
how else do the pure
endure.
mary angela douglas 22 december 2019
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