Momento Vivere (Final Version) Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

in loving memory to my mother, Mary Adalyn Douglas-Young (1927-1993)
and
to the poet Sara Teasdale (1894-1933) , with abiding respect


pink marigold suns have slipped away
like the cameo cares of Sara Teasdale
but I am here

with the dove-lapsed valentine
folded up I always meant to
send her, across time-

and the air of St. Louis
crumples like rose parchment
kindling lost kingdomes:

are you there?

as I hold out one cream starched
dawn's particular corner
for you to catch- dim orchards washed-

green rains..
forget-me-nots at tea

I'm dreaming a cloud
like an envelope. sepia-dipped
twice over. filled

with your manifold
weeping harps your sunbursts
but it's delayed, misplaced,

and where
will I really be that
ringed with light again

sustaining when I can
the fleeting imprint of so many violet skies...

here at the orphaned window still
I trace your leaves and lilies through the mist
in tinctured starlight

scrapbook cherished
wishing you were here:
weighing in scales of pearl the clockface moon

but the afternoon grows older, after all
the tide of wishes turns...
above the noise of mere battlefields
every singed and salvaged word
I praise

and look past
the garnet consolations of the epic dead
to see

white wave on wave
of your delight
bright words

never blind, inlaid
like fires in opal
self-contained

the rainbowed startled reveries (of God)
inferred:
and on - at last-

the unclasped fairytale page unwavering
the heart stenciled postscript of the child
who cried for Beauty
and was heard-

mary angela douglas 13-14 march 2011

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*'Latin, remember to live'