Diamond Cutters Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

waiting on the pillar of cloud
I rested on a moss-bright wall
too tired to think of my own name

determined to forget
those who attack without regard
the scarcest jeweled moment left.
oh since they adore

grinding the farthest stars
to gravel, cutting
the last madrigal from the program:

the one of sheerest spring's
petaled music may

their policies rule on no day when
the heartless penny Valentine's revealed
for all that it is not-

and we find
through childish tears
our first real words to say to You:

'We have no Pharoah now.'

let the weighted sorrows be weightless than
like butterflies resting on the moon
after aoenic flights, consoled

and You shut down
all faux leaden skies.
sure of our return;

pouring for us, again,
the crystal remedies of Your stars.
then I won't wonder anymore
I won't say to You, oh God,
'am I far from You, still?
let it not be so.'

mary angela douglas 26 october 2009