Northern Landscapes Of The Soul Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

caught in the northern landscapes of the soul
have some perished?
were they remembered?

this was the history I wanted to know
water coloured, a little blurred in the frost:
the last message from the lost.

but here we only trace the navigations
on the page in bright colours and it
seems such a breeze to cross such seas

to memorize shipping weights and tides
and dates and never to know
until we're out there on our own

where expeditions often fail
just how it feels, really,
when you are setting sail.

mary angela douglas 1 january 2016