Behold, The Glorious In The Dust And Exceedingly Glad Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

for my mother, Mary Adalyn Young-Douglas



for some on earth it's always the inner estates they crave

they are oblivious to dust, to mold, to moths

to whatever creaks and cracks

collapses

while they dream on

in mansions of imagination, reverie, scholarship

heraldry

perhaps the once and future kings they are,

who would know

no one's looking in the hovels

for the great returns

and yet they yearn

for one sojourn only

and I think that what Christ said applies

in this case too, Thou, Mary

Thou hast chosen the better part.

mary angela douglas 7 march 2023