The Gold Among The Ruins Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

in ourselves the golden ore stands sifted

through winter's trees the ghosts of bird calls thrum

as in our hearts recess from battle, respite

like some worn guest upon the threshold, comes.

time for a moment glistens in the winter air

snow for a moment lingers there

the snows of the heart from the worst of the fires spared

and what remains in us

God knows: and calls His own;

when with the brightening sun

the gold among the ruins flares.

mary angela douglas 19 january 2022