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Glistening in the Dark
It's impossible
to feel nothing
in the dark
while everything
floats upward and
all your fury
and hunger
oil their way
to the surface.
Shadows gawk
and hang from
contorted elms, but
you have no patience
for their oozing
mysteries.
One prayer
and your heart opens
like a scroll
of cryptic wisdom,
and the old sages
roll out to remind you:
All is well
because love, and
all its names for God,
never left,
can never leave,
although the game looks
quite convincing from
the trenches in
the cloaked world,
and yes, it's rigged,
but look what you've won:
Could you see
the celestial dramas,
could you truly
know the light,
without the bottomless
nights?
A barn owl makes a sound
from another world.
The moon has fallen and
is everywhere in new
and old forms:
diced and gleaming
on the ink-blot pond;
wrapping trees in its
filmy peace;
luring you into the
softest sandstorm.
Yes, it's like that.
Light is no longer
just an idea
in the dark,
but, like the moon
in tatters
at your feet,
your visible truth,
your sacred and
endless Self.
Patricia Joan Jones
I wanted to leave at least
I wanted to leave at least one comment on your page. I read all your works, and feel to comment on them all would be redundant, as they are all pieces of art, and stand on their own merit. I thank you for sharing your talent with those of us at PostPoems.
Resounding gratitude! Your
Resounding gratitude! Your comment is worth a volume of words. Thank you!
Wonderful
Wonderful turn of phrases. I must come back and read the comments but suffice to say I enjoyed reading this. Have a wibder day
Debbie
It's a huge honor just to
It's a huge honor just to have you stop by. Your very encouraging comment meant so much, and I enjoy reading you as well. Thank you, wonderful weaver of words, for your support.
First, I thank God that,
First, I thank God that, despite my medical condition, I have been blessed to live long enough to have read this poem---which is not only highly theological, but so deeply speaks to my own situation, both to comfort me and to remind me that, too often, I have relied upon feelings, not my Faith, when things get tough.
I am not going to put this poem to my usual analysis of a Patrician poem because, frankly, the poem towers above that so that anything I would have to say in my usual way would sound trite in the face of this great poetic blessing that the poem delivers. A blessing both spiritual, literary, and partaking of the utmost verbal quality: this is the kind of poem that only Patricia is qualified to write. She combines both her cosmic and what I would call her local vision (the barn owl, the trees, the view of the moon), a combination she presents with unprecedented artistic and verbal finesse, which no one---and I mean, absolutely no one---can imitate. In this poem, she not only matains the excellent quality of her previous poems, but she ministers to those readers who, like me, feel overwhelmed by their burdens.
Her use of the words love and light allude to Aoostle John's theology, and, while I would never presume to speak for the great Apostle, I have the distinct impression that he, too, would be mighty impressed by this poem. As would be Dante and Eliot.
I am facing another painful medical procedure, unscheduled yet, but I expect to be told when during a phone call tomorrow. And then, as it normally goes, my fear (yes, of the pain, one of the worst I have ever experienced) will begin to mount upon my back, and laugh in my ear, and make ugly faces at me. But I have this poem to remind me that this fear, and the pain, do not have the final word, or even any kind of victory. In this way, Patricia's poem is more than a poem---it is the conveyor of blessing and encouragement from the throne of God, and it is a reminder that we are here on this earth together, and have been created to minister to each other.
Thank you, Patricia, for posting this beautiful, powerful, spiritual, and ministerial poem: I know that, when I face this next procedure, your poem will remind me, before I go, that the fear and pain will not get the better of me. Thank you for that.
J-Called
I'm deeply troubled by the
I'm deeply troubled by the situation that is bringing you such anxiety and anguish. Sending prayers, compassion and positive energy now.
That my poem granted you comfort is the greatest reward I can imagine. Thank you for expressing your gratitude in your usual sincere and stunning way. Always the poet!
I'm also gratified that you extracted the essence of my work and then interpreted it with wit and insight:
"this fear, and the pain, do not have the final word, or even any kind of victory."
I'm humbled and filled with immeasurable gratitude for all your encouragement.
It would take volumes to express it.
God bless.
Thank you. Thank you so very
Thank you. Thank you so very much!!!! Even your comments provide a sustaining encouragement. It is always a great joy to experience, and respond to, your poems . . . and, besides, some future grad student may find these comments helpful to their dissertation (which will be one of many others, I predict) on your magnificent achievement.
J-Called
Your support means the world
Your support means the world to me. Infinite gratitude.