MS (8.4.1929 / Marton, Lancashire)

0167 Just Beyond The Angel's Reach

I don't know much about what I'm writing
except that I'm writing;
I don't know much about what I've written either,
except what I read;
I don't know much about what I'm going to write
except what I hope;

but I do know a little about where I'm writing:
it's there, in those paintings of The Annunciation,
between where the angel's outstretched hand with lily,
and sometimes open, sometimes closed, but silent mouth
and Mary's crossed, clasped hands, her body
curved in obedience and humility;
eyes downcast; so be it unto her; there

just beyond the angel's reach,
just in front of mankind's hope,
where nothing and everything is happening,
and your eye runs out to the distant horizon
only to focus on infinity;

that's where I'm waiting.
that's where I'm writing.

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Comments (3)

mmmmmmmmm, the very credo of the creative process. The sacredness of it all!
Just like Mary, I think this is a great poem.
Beautiful Michael. You've shown these paintings in a new light. Very nice poem. Sincerely, Mary