Dispensations Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

in the eternal moment in your teardrop dispensation

suspended we survive

though we don't how we are still alive

waiting out the storms.

a crystalline peace descends

the wind picks up

loaded with fragrances

though we don't know

where the next dollar is

coming from

or who will come beating an old drum

and take our loved ones away.

the axe seems at the root

in the middle of the day and yet

it could happen this way

that angels will stand guard

at our decrepit doorsteps

freezing the axe stroke,

the bureaucratic stroke of the pen.

we are golden

who cannot turn the Ikon to the wall.

we are in your high tower.

the moment flowers between us oh Lord

and your deliverance is sure.


mary angela douglas 22 may 2019