if there weren't
eyes in the hurricanes
lights on the rim of Space
fragrance as of flowers
remembrance of the dear things past
still we could find our way
through the hypercritical alleys
the blind siding mazes
such disquieting dreams
the infinite disguises cruelly cast
stumbling into You oh Lord,
at last.
mary angela douglas 13 november 2022
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem