your heart encased like a paperweight flower,
like an early blossom in late winter's hour,
God has kept like a penny in His shoe,
like bread and butter in the tower,
a last meal cherished.
you with your mystical bent
will almost comprehend
while waiting for the winds to turn
your toy boat round again on a lake as smooth as silk
that you have been preserved for something;
not for yourself alone.
meanwhile, you live, you love to live
in the shadow of His throne.
mary angela douglas 2 july 2016
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You wield that pen of yours like a magic wand and I have been magicked by this piece. I bet it even glows in the dark! 10+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
what a kind and poetical thing to say. maybe all our poems are like that, like verbal fireflies in God's long, infinite summer. I like to think so.