things known, assumed known from the beginning
one day may shift into some other sphere
as if the earth had opened
and swallowed all the gardens, the roses the lilies
yes even the lilacs, the shining evenings.
my obsidian twilights, drifting by.
they may murmur we have heard all this before
and we are bored.
you don't know
how the key fit in the lock of snow
and can no more
you don't know
how it felt on an unsuspecting shore
on the sundial, the shadows obscuring everything
bearing it all away
the heart stops beating but you are still here
a ghost in your own time, but no funeral;
where once there were bluebirds weaving
their sapphire songs, nothing but sky
all flocks have migrated to a far country
the clouds no longer stand still
and the murmurations inveigh
the green hills, the green hills
have vanished away
I dont know how to say it
or barely describe
when something you cherished
falls away, inside.
and the Dove cries out in pale thunder
confirming what you had denied
could ever happen.
mary angela douglas 5 december 2022;6 february
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