In the gift shop of the Pink Sisters’ Convent
I weary of crystal trinkets and smiling statuettes
And so I leave to follow the slender path
That leads to the shaded green and purple place
Where no birds sing and the sun never pierces
The canopy of leaves to fall on the graves
Where lie the dead dreams of my heart
And loves that never flourished to fruition.
I see Her standing upon a headstone,
Blessed Mother whose gaze turns up to where
Blue should be with glints of gold, robe
Of rosemary fanning out although no wind stirs.
Her pearl-pure face is a single star
In the grey-furred darkness. Lit by ivory
The dead place becomes blessed and beautiful.
Find the lobster in the abandoned places.
Behind broken-down buildings search for
The forgotten shrine where the ashes
Lie in a cold heap before the altar.
Follow the overgrown trail through the forest
Until you reach the lost reservoir
Where the diamond-glint dances on clear water.