[to William Blake]
I saw you walking
the hills of green.
angels on either side of you, conversing
and cherry-bought bells resounding
in the dove-sought skies such flame-tinged
clouds appearing:
yes and the fleece of
skies that you loved once-
the cirrus roses...
you were so happy with an ink-stained smile-
peeling a scroll of topaz from
a frayed coat pocket,
meant for the martyred poets.
you said: don't cry anymore
all consternation's fled, don't cry,
no rose is dead.
art is a shining ship, delivered
the choken river's spanned.
the mocking charter's been revoked.
although they hoped your vision
was a sinking sun
marked by three crosses on a stolen hill,
but the day is a flower endlessly fluted,
and etched in crystal now
where tygers kept their radiant promise-
where darkness is banished
to a farther castle and the
face of the Lamb is so revealed
whenever we are speaking in our
sheer unfiltered gold
and realize
we are still alive my
bartered friend!
a bright wind drives your
mended sails toward home
with the diamond husk of all your
poems received, the
heart of it believed in when you say
that all your trees are filled with singing now
where nothing, nothing is a bane
how
blazingly the Light
of every poem remains-
mary angela douglas 22 august 2011, 2 december 2005,rev. 16 june 2022
marked by three crosses on a stolen hill,
but the day is a flower endlessly fluted,
and etched in crystal now
where tygers kept their radiant promise-
where darkness is banished
to a farther castle and the
face of the Lamb is so revealed
whenever we are speaking in our
sheer unfiltered gold
and realize
we are still alive my
bartered friend!
a bright wind drives your
mended sails toward home
with the diamond husk of all your
poems received, the
heart of it believed in when you say
that all your trees are filled with singing now
where nothing, nothing is a bane
how
blazingly the Light
of every poem remains-
mary angela douglas 22 august 2011, 2 december 2005,rev. 16 june 2022
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