A Faint Nostalgia For The Stars Of Eden

(on Kitezh perhaps or on listening to Debussy's La Cathédrale

Engloutie in my Grandmother's piano studio)

and saints were bullied for cherishing the mirror images

though the image refracted the Lord God whom they could not see

directly and then not at all, and by decree

read the marquee on museum walls;

kicking eternity the new price of admission

in a blank slate dream of utter deprivation

and under a stone regime

we could not welcome our orphanhood

frozen over. where we stood.

where were our hands.

we learned the alphabets anew

under so many alien commands;

the brand new dictates

while all we previously loved at Easter

was rubbed out of the picture

or we lived blindfolded now;

snow blistered.

but lake water sparkled and could not be restrained

and we remembered former things and what remained:

a faint nostalgia for the stars of Eden

while what was underwater continued to glow,

a rose funneled fire.

and the willows gleamed.

mary angela douglas 17 november 2021;14 february 2022