Somewhere Is There A Book Of The Unrealized Histories Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

somewhere is there a book of the unrealized histories
in gold leaf, filagree of pearl, the unsorted mysteries
I inquired of a bookshop in another world
what may have been, was for a while, then toppled
the colours flowing in the infant brain and spinning
what will not come again old poets sigh
and resign themselves to the Heavenly Tree
chopped down
chopped down unfeelingly
no branch or blossom now, we cried
time is a wheel the ancients said
will it turn merry go round again so that we may rehearse
the flowering stories from another earth
and redeemed, play the scenes of our lost years
and find the tracks that disappeared
into such long winters
longing, we strive to mend
alas what shattered like glass, again
so softly, delicately the way is wended
still the sheep that You have tended
the beautiful you intended
from the Beginning...

mary angela douglas 22 april 2023