I don't want to be angry at anyone
but reports of the band NOT playing
Nearer My God to Thee as the Titanic
slowly, nightmarishly rose in a vertical way
as if praying before with agonizing drop by drop heart
shattering
slowness it dipped under with cries resounding makes me wonder
thunderstruck
why are so many so eager to disprove this, triumphant ants
scurrying over the fatal picnic swells feasting on
secular crumbs. that a hymn was strummed.
maybe it was true, maybe it was not.
that the band played waltzes and nothing of hymns.
you still don't know what the angels sang to them
the musicians going down implacably devoted
to music and consolation
even to their own devastation
the doomed passengers
flailing in the icy waters were known to be praying out loud
hearing music who can say from what realms.
for there are many realms where facts do not hold sway.
fact check it all away.
the moon, the stars, the glacial waters.
any evidence of port.
undying love. the truth of the dividing line
between the living and the dead. and the almost dead
and latitudes of the Unseen crowning
nearing with certainty the precipice of it all.
how flimsy are facts in the waters of calamity
strip every tree bare and consign
it to shift its leaves ecologically
to your visionless demands, cold calculations
pursed lipped lines in the sands
where the tombs of the Pharaohs prevail.
sneering at Time.
even though when it dreams
its roots have turned to gold.
and a ghost ship somewhere - chimes.
mary angela douglas 6 july 2023
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