lost saints wandered through forests of miracle
treading the light but never crushing it;
famished, making the music shine:
alone.
how are you far from home
when you carry Him with you
lost saints wondering wondered
and they did not err.
and they are shot with gold
in all the illuminations
and they are jewel like in their speaking
without recriminations
if they should speak:
visionary, acute in wind and wave
ah but how will they save
how will small animals defend themselves
when they are gone
when the bluebird blue no longer
hangs onto
the hidden flowers,
before the approaching heel and
with none to gather them.
mary angela douglas 11 december 2013;20 october 2023
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