[in memory of my grandfather, Milton B. Young]
what have they done with
my fairytale alphabet,
chasing down events?
I still believe in your
letters of gold cherished
in secret, guarded in times of war
your bursts of transcendent
light, your roses your
redemption
under your wings your
sorrow I have rested
in modern times
your blue shining skies
replaced for me by
nothing, my cloud, my dream
I will never be banished from
the realm of speaking
and living in you,
oh, my language of stars
mary angela douglas 29 january 1999
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem