for each poet in their turn)
you are the ground under my feet
if the ground trembles
you are my ravine
if the ravine crumbles
you are my sea
if the sea dissolves
you are my sky
if the sky falters
you are my star
if the star bursts
you are my Heaven.
these are the words
exactly in their places.
there are no other versions;
though He died for us
the poem cannot write itself:
the star could not dream of its own shining
you are the ground under my feet
if the ground trembles
you are my ravine
if the ravine crumbles
you are my sea
if the sea dissolves
you are my sky
if the sky falters
you are my star
if the star bursts
you are my Heaven.
these are the words
exactly in their places.
there are no other versions;
though He died for us
He is not dead
He died for love of us
and rose again
whatever is made is made by Him
the poem cannot write itself:
the star could not dream of its own shining
nor the ocean conceive its own tides.
He will abide.
and I, and you
whatever else we do
we will abide in Him.
and our words too.
mary angela douglas 8 july 2009;20 june 2022
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