In The Borderlands

(for Sharon, my sister)

may there be small rosebuds in the borderlands

where we played as if they were sewn into the earth,

our best embroidery

and the clouds drift overhead forever the tint of tea roses;

the skies in blue taffeta.

we were blowing soap bubbles into the wind

and playing swing a statue into the dusk;

when one of us said freeze, the pose was immortal.

then we could hear the convent bells clang richly

over the afternoons or the hand bells of angels

etched on the crystal air

or the scent of cut grass was like a prayer.

I remember the vows that I made then

you made as well.

I will live for music you said.

I said, I will too. for Christ's own sake

for words

in their music

music in the words

could sing the worlds awake.

mary angela douglas 10 july 2020