Invisible Threads

 INVISIBLE THREADS

invisible threads have bound me to the moon

it's the fairy spinners I assume as Shakespeare did

though I'm not supposed to think that anymore

say the deplorers the ones who would rather the

poem be about political radishes, or how mold grows given time on

Uncle Ray's birthday cake

or slime or who won who or what this time

oh run and see the endless litany of prizes

but I'm immune

invisible threads have tied me to the moon, the trees, a foundling

innocent among the sweet sweet greenery. leaves, occasional blooms

so that I believe I am emerald too, like Daphne becoming

roots and bark of necessity and forgotten birds of lore

will come and nest in me, the nightingale for sure

the Firebird, Phoenix still as starlight

beyond the grinding mills of language minced for common use, abuse

where words are serfs and I despair ;only I hear a distant interstellar

music, everywhere could it be Eternity there at the pearl gate of listening

and Poetry itself the Word so vastly pure

the enduring Word

if God so will, shuttering the Dead.

signaling the return of the language heard by Angels

the Beautiful in flight

when there was Light. when it was spoken into Being.

mary angela douglas 2 may 2021