the jewels still shone
they floated away in parachutes made of flowers
landing on the Other Side
because the Princess wanted to wear silk again
and she knew there would always be flowers
birdsong from ruined trees and Christmas choirs and
grass growing softly over the untended graves
rebuilding the jewel box cities we were praised
again we raced up the hills to soak in the stars
the stars that aren't there anymore
yet from the burned out distances
they are plain as day at night
I want to go to school to spell in light years
after the wars,
what can't be understood no matter how many
candles are on the cake don't you see
no matter how much people tell you to face reality
oh lovely, troubled human race
everything, finally, disappears
from this too
mysterious, fragile place.
mary angela douglas 7 october 2022;21 february 2023
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