I stood in the branded woods
that were all aflame
with the fairy light so often now disdained
reframed, given other names and quelled.
who were the listeners oh dear de la mare
who listened to squelch rare beauty everywhere
the hordes.
still in the woods I find the old despairs
the retreating horns of Elfland.
Rise! take up arms again, you fractured angel hosts
and ford the mossy banks of
what I loved the most
about my mother's words, my grandparents heraldry
the seas of imagination cannot ebb.
eternally.
mary angela douglas 9 november 2022
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