Having At Last So Many Things To Say Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

[to la belle au bois dormant (the sleeping beauty in the wood...) ]

having at last so many things to say
will she awaken in an unlettered age?
someone has turned the page but oh,

the page is blank as snows.
though clear midsummer's roses
scent the air

as fair as she is, still-
where may she tell the things
stored up in a hundred years

of dreams.
and where the gold is hid?

though gardens bloom
and founts resume their weeping
in the afternoons

she stares into the Heavens
with a muted heart and knows
by story's end there's no one left

to take her part or comprehend
where she has been.
the lutes are laid low

with no one left
to string them.

mary angela douglas 2 may 2015