Singing Was Different Then Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

singing was different then
as though we had cast our nets
toward the Beautiful

forever slipping through
the jade territories, hints of the early Spring
or lit our candles privately

before an unnamed shrine

in evening dews;
endowed so quietly
as if we could reach Heaven, somehow,

on a dime with one note only,
only a silver bell,

a rubied chime
so that Time drew back
at the edge

of the glimmering wood
as in childhood,
where it was forgot.

and song was the well
rimmed with wishes
into which was set

one jewel, and then another
sinking down into clouded depths;
what men have wept to find.

such was grief and laughter then;
the gift of pretending kingdoms until it became so real
that we could fell all hearts

in the grimness then, made Light and

threaded music
spilling into,
over and above,

the thunderstruck love of God.

mary angela douglas 14 august 2016