when you write about war in your sunburst poems
and describe its devastation
with an acute beauty, worthy of prizes
when you do your household chores by the light of
the flares sent up and talk about this
to an international audience
war is happy. snug. content.
its gaining fame. but you.
you worship under a false sun up
you feed it what it wants to hear
that it still is alive
successful
beating you down
so that even hearing the rain on the roof
you only imagine it is the war gods thundering
in little sloshes and puddles off the drains
tiptoing to take your whole domain
and strangle it.
write instead of the lanes in Spring
the competition of flowers.
the art of the past
that lasts and lasts
the soul still laughing
above all spheres
the war ending,
next Spring.or even in the next instant.
the searing of happiness on the brain.
the parties you will throw.
forever. the kindness of God.
mary angela douglas 11 july 2023
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