Canticle Of The Anonymous Poets Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

we are the circus behind our eyes
the pink or peach ballet of blind words
candlelight in the sun

who needs us? pale of commission who
knows whether we have snowed apart
in a universe beyond or if we play our part perhaps

backstage at the operas of vacant lots
and write and write the self addressed
invitations to all the parties,

never asked to dance. we'll
take our turn on earth and learn to be much less
than we imagine; pierrots of confetti shadows;

colombines, the same-
be happy when your words fall soundless,
short of flame and

sightless after all-
but read by God, it may be, later on
or by His slightest

angels, doves;
remembered at Christmas, sung by some-
as in the cherry sprigged folk tunes on

crystal hand bells rung

for the Christ child! newly sprung!

mary angela douglas 14 october 2014