WE TURN TO MOURN

 

WE TURN TO MOURN

You step through

Even without knowing how

Into a landscape

Of ruined angelic statuary

Careful of the broken pieces

Smashed, the crockery of God

Only farther off than His most gauzy nebulae

He is safe from our conjectures

About whether He cares enough or not

I know unexpected tenderness

Is not a lie

If we are broken

He is broken too

And weeps in vast corners and wakes

The gestures of faint Spring

The ointment of the sun

Let us console

The inner landscapes

The angels with chipped wings

The devastation of everything we loved

That once was beautiful

We turn to mourn;

The roses blown apart.

Somehow, still singing,

One bird in the tree of the heart.

nary angela douglas 6 april 2024