To Be The Streams

do not trust in appearances the fairy tale voices whisper
as in dreams only you really hear them this time
and wake up thinking after awhile just  this far from dawn
as it would take light to flourish in a doorway half open in expectation
so what if the wilderness never blooms
still You were flowering in the pillar and in the cloud
Lord God you were the honey of our days
and relief for tears was found
in the vast shadow of the Rock that

You Are.
so what if honey and milk could never flow
or the stars go into exile
along with the meteors.
it still would flash against all consciousness and bitter reason;
the blank screen of our numbed out minds
the silver of your presence on the way
honey in the Rock the scriptures say
which somehow the angels rolled away

and Christ emerged to flower forever
and to be the streams.
and we, the watered pastures of His hand.


mary angela douglas 8 september 2020