to come into the world, to leave like snow
like leaves that blow is this a thing to wish
perhaps most devoutly
Shakespeare knew but then with rue
returned to work the laden mines
of his own mind
it should be enough to work with God, for God,
for joy, and in the instants find
no words that cloy but those that shine
and then depart from the world
to leave like snow no imprint of its own
but bearing the imprint of what blows
what breaks in the ice or twig like goes
its creaturely way across vast distances:
the soul filled up with clouds,
going away
mary angela douglas 15 november 2016
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Only from such a tortured soul can music in word's Can these be found And you have found them.. James
Dear James, Thank you for your kind and poetic words. I did feel that I found the words and image I wanted to find in this poem. Thank you for saying that. I am up in years so I think about the next life from time to time, in poetic Eternity and I love snowfall. So much of nature is graceful and peaceful even though there is also the other side of it that is not. I dwell in possibility like Emily Dickinson even when I do feel tortured by difficulties in the world or difficulties of the world itself and the possibility is Hope that comes from God and Christ and from my own happier memories especially of childhood and the comfort of all the beautiful poems, music, works of art from the past, and the happiness of knowing that many many people such as yourself, such as myself are still trying to make beautiful poems, beautiful things no matter if we are famous for it or not, just because we love the beautiful. And this is honor to God and to Christ who were tortured, are tortured for us and whom we go with hand in hand every day. God bless your work too and please know that in Him neither we nor our poems will EVER pass away.