I Dreamed A Dark Green Pilgrimage Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

I dreamed a dark green pilgrimage
unfolding on newsreels lit by a midnight
sun or catholic candles blooming

sunbursts on film the candles wavering
yet not, the saints. the shattering of pale roses
down, adown I cried: whither, these miracles unending?

none answered me. not one.

I, a mere witness to the spectacles of healing
cloistered beyond the front row seats
beyond the balconies even.

I'm in the front lobby or on some street wept my soul
I cannot recognize where no bus runs or cab is called
and I seem to hear singing

but it was my own voice streaming into

a strange music like a crystal cup
where sometimes an indifferent coinage
dropped and this was disonance I said

going on with the music anyway

beyond the fol de rol, the jesters sheening the tickets
bought and paid for by the jeweled attendees
I worked at times for

if at all until they decreed, no more.
but I footsore and memeless, even so
I caught the meaning of something behind the news

that the sun dissolved or everything I knew oh

Jesus of Nazareth

my castaway's candle,
brilliant stub oh

quench the floods the rise and the fall of
the faux events. the heart stripped of all sense

like a bird with no ark I strain against the tides
and dream of waking on the other side.
expensive moments past.

mary angela douglas 1 april 2015