In The Weeping Hour Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

in the weeping hour

that comes to us unforeseen

when the golden things,


people and places

are falling apart struck by an unseen hand

and the heart the heart


as Brodsky said goes on living

even while it seems to you

that it could not


let us weep diamonds then

let us speak pearls while human words remain to us

that do not have to be rented, bought or sold


out from under us


of defiant joy


so that beauty even in falling apart

may remain on earth.even though we are forgotten

even though we forget.


let Love be the victor yet.

though tenantless. torn down

stone by stone.


mary angela douglas 16 august 2018