spelling your name in stones
they turn aside to conjure over
what's next on some pretext
and you think, blinking back small tears
maybe the stars are stone
and when they fall we all we all
will be the brides of silence
abiding under the Shadow
or in the school yard
praying hard
by the evening swings awaiting the
punishment of mimicry
in a dress of cardinal red
so all can see at recess
and tell later, tell and tell
what was said
but the heart has wings
and the green trees have
the winds
and they are rustling then
though they are planted firm
as if they had angels in their boughs
instead of only birds
and though it may turn out
that you cannot avert your face from it
when the hailstorms hail
somewhere there is a grace in it
though you feel terribly alone each time
beyond the chimes of angels
when they spell your name in stones
mary angela douglas 11 january 2016
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem