was it an impossible thing: a katydid green
on a snowy canvas; the snow, crumbling in
your hands?
the violet sands of deserts
on the planets of the sun;
or vermillion dried up in the tube
so that the sun is bleached;
also, the roses
and children cry for water
in a foreign tongue,
near the ancient fountains,
o aquamarine;
why have you vanished
into the seam of earthquakes, shifting
everything.
mary angela douglas 7 july 2016
the violet sands of deserts on the planets of the sun; or vermillion dried up in the tube so that the sun is bleached; Beautiful lines. loved the poem.10 for sharing this poem.
Thank you so much. You have quoted the lines that are the core, the heart's core of the poem. Thank you for your deep reading. God bless.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A very painful portrayal of an earthquake and the sufferings inflicted on hapless people in its wake. Thanks for sharing it, Angela.
Thank you very much for your very real insight and appreciation. I also mean it in hope because the image of the artist with paints is the very real history of all artists (including poets, novelists, musicians) who have striven to go forward in their art irregardless of disasters, historical upheavals, wars, and all manner of personal distress. Though the artist in this poem is too distraught to paint and can't even find usable supplies the attempt is being made even in the midst of devastation. And all people in disasters even if not explicitly artists are always trying with the help of God and with their shattered hearts to start their personal history over again. over and over. I am so gratefjul for all those artists and persons and thinking of them makes me stronger and more determined.