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mary douglas


For James Joyce At The Beginning of Days, Or Near It


in the after winds of her, Maria Stella,
he sees the small ships rise,
the silver and the rubied and the dimming

surprise of the pearl coves opening
and the hidden doors. and the whole of Dublin
sea washed, as in a dream

the ruby ships of the children crest and the
silver ones and he is all at sea and does not remember
his dream or how he felt then

or what it was he wanted to be or

maria stella, queen of everything and of the fabled ships
that fall away too soon. the silver and the rubied
stream breaks off into the blanched thoughts in the afternoon
where the orchards are razed in the snow blinds

when all is losing, lost and the cost of forgetting
maria stella, queen of all winds and of the beginning when
the small ships rise and the lore lies all before me when

prayer is love and love is prayer only
it is only

the moonrise in her eyes
and the harbor takes the little ships farther than the foam of
those who left before rippling back now, for awhile, into the small coves
in the pearl coves and it overflows and he cannot forsake now can he

the silvered and rubied brimming over, the ruins of the beautiful
about his feet

in the shoals of his lost kingdoms

mary angela douglas 6 july 2014

Submitted: Tuesday, July 22, 2014
Edited: Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Topic of this poem: Poets


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Poet's Notes about The Poem

A Poem on James Joyce just after writing A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man or reflectin, in his old age, back on his beginning in Dublin

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