The Mist Of The Day Is Not My Armour Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

St. Joan of Arc Between Worlds…
The mist of the day is not my armour
Shall I hold onto the fairy tree wind
Or look from fanciful windows like
Some Princess
Dreaming of how to win
Voices call as if I were the sea
Bound to a tide like a destiny
What courage is mine
Comes in the saintly visions
And tatters in the brine
of tears
Of all my sad renunciated years
And then over airy cliffs suspended
I live and yet I cannot be
what I was then
Everything disappears
Out of the realm of time
Mist is not my armour
But Jesus Christ is mine.
mary angela douglas 30 july 2024