THE MIST OF THE DAY IS NOT MY ARMOUR

 

The MIST OF THE DAY IS NOT MY ARMOUR

St. Joan of Arc Between Worlds…

The mist of the day is not my armour

Shall I hold onto the fairy tree wind

Or look from fanciful windows like

Some Princess

Dreaming of how to win

Voices call as if I were the sea

Bound to a tide like a destiny

What courage is mine

Comes in the saintly visions

And tatters in the brine

of tears

Of all my sad renunciated years

And then over airy cliffs suspended

I live and yet I cannot be

what I was then

Everything disappears

Out of the realm of time

Mist is not my armour

But Jesus Christ is mine.

mary angela douglas 30 july 2024