(to God, My Father)
Your name is a nest of lilies where my soul finds rest
from wild dogs tearing it apart your name is a green glade
where I breathe when overwhelmed by the lack of oxygen
in the rooms of those who think it a slight matter not to
mention you at all, even those who call You so many names in private
bowing down to the earth
I will not desert your name more precious to me than the
fragrance of all the roses, birdsong in the midnight crisis hour
than the storm in its violet creases who are they omitting your
name your name your name or letting it all go by
the core of the flame that lights our way
without which we are nil
and have no name at all ourselves.
mary angela douglas 9 may 2021
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