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Soft and Final Landing
Morning
and the frail light
thrashes upon the holly.
There's a thread between
imitation death and
more living,
and everything is
unscripted, lathering and
defying gravity
and did I actually hear some
prodigal geese scrambling
the sky, all sugar, calm
and kindness?
Like me they
are fugitives of sameness,
their cries clear announcements
of change, reminders that
without change there
is no living . . .
What if the gathering dark
clouds out there rip open
and gush with all our
nightmares? What if
the worst happens and we
survive and are better for it
and find it didn't matter
anyway because we landed
safely back in the Light
where we began, and there
really is a fathomless,
embracing world just beyond
this facade,
and even now there is
a God in our hands,
softer than we ever imagined,
and an afterlife that shows up early
every time we believe,
and every life is a cherished
shard of an ancient scream,
ever-becoming and
ever-us? What if
All is well . . .
Patricia Joan Jones
Your poems, full of faith,
Your poems, full of faith, hope, love, and a clarity on how to achieve each, are modern day psalms to a troubled world.
Thank you for sharing this gift with us.
That is huge encouragement,
That is huge encouragement, especially coming from a true Poet. Your support means so much. Thank you!
" . . . Like me they are fugitives of sameness . . ."
Being surrounded by numerous poets here who are far more trained in poetry than I, all I can say is that I was moved by this poem especially the line cited above.
I love your poetry and I'm
I love your poetry and I'm honored that you took the time to read and leave such encouraging feedback on my work. I value your opinion. Thank you so much!
Yes what if all is well? It
Yes what if all is well?
It is always well,
What a boring way
If heaven is nothing but peace all day
No touch
Taste,
Smell,
Only foresight
No free will,
How boring if all was well
How great that such a journey begins
Where the dark is the backdrop of light
Constrasting and playing
With blind luck
Seeing strengths we never knew we had
Things we never dreamed
Because we always knew
What a gift a is the veil
What a thrill is exposition
Something different to what you knew
The joy of surprise
A truly valuable thing
In the eye of the beholder
Who could not with out life
Have beholden.
Such an amazing concept and look at trials and renewal tge art of tempering...
How well you write,
Alwaye a pleasure in every case.
Hugss
Don't let any one shake your dream stars from your eyes, lest your soul Come away with them! -SS
"Well, it's love, but not as we know it."
I adore your life-altering
I adore your life-altering insights into contrast, life as a playful drama, not a senseless struggle and, as you eloquently put it: the veil as a gift. Only an enlightened being who has cracked the code of this wild and puzzling Earth school could have that perspective. Thank you for sharing your wisdom, innate talent and encouragement. You were certainly a bright spot in my day.
First . . . I apologize to
First . . . I apologize to the Poet for failing to comment on this poem in a timely way. I have been hospitalized without internet access; I am now at a rehab place which has connectivity.
I have often remarked that certain poems from this Poet are centerpieces of her complete collection. I have also often mentioned, following Helen Vendler's readings of Wallace Stevens' poetry, how this Poet, like Pop Stevens, often locates the purpose or soul of her poem in the middle or at the end of the text. (Many amateurs begin, always, with the purpose.)
The centerpiece of this centerpiece is its last two lines. Thousands of novels and short stories have been written in science fiction asking "What if . . ." but this poem asks a spiritual "What if." Her poem, in a very subtle and unobstrusive way, testifies to the promises of Jesus Himself that all shall be made well eventually. And if all shall be made well, all is well for us now. We need not worry. The two outerspace telescopes we have launched---the Webb and the Hubble---show us the cosmos going about its business as the Supreme StarMaker intended it to do. All is well there. Two thousand years ago, at least two or more starwatchers traveled through the chaos and turmoil of the Roman frontier in their search for a newborn King, having seen His Star rise ahead of the sun ("in the East") because they had preserved Balaam;s prophecy among them (according to Romanus the Melodist). They knew that all was well, despite the distractions of Roman politics. And, in this present day, we must learn to remember that all is well, despite our own distractions (like the damned fool who is running again for our land's highest office). We must remember that the Supreme StarMaker has not, for one moment, removed us from His great Plan of existence. This life is a preparation for us to enter the StarMaker's presence---to me, that means all is well now. My health is failing---chronic heart failure and an unquenchable thirst that aggravates my retention of water, which makes the heart failure worse, and a transverse myalitis has robbed me of most of the ability to walk. Yet, all is well---as this poem reminds me to remember. Even the continuing degradation of my body's functions means my soul is nearing its release into the starry cosmos and the StarMaker's presence: and, in this case, how, possibly, could all not be well?
This is a poem to cherish; a poem to assuage the thirst of the dried-out soul; and a poem that should stand as a splendid example to other poets.
J-Called
First, it is an extreme
First, it is an extreme pleasure to have you back. One doesn't realize just what a vital pillar of support and inspiration they have until it is gone, but the deepest sorrow was knowing that you must have been suffering greatly to have been away from your poetic community. I prayed often and I continue to pray with great urgency while you still struggle.
Welcome back! And thank you for finding my latest post.
Not only did you pinpoint the soul of of my work, but you affirmed the nucleus with two expertly insightful and striking analogies, one contemporary and one Biblical. Then, with pristine understanding, you zeroed in on my purpose, my mission, and declared it accomplished. I'm overwhelmed and humbled. How can I begin to thank you?
To my dismay, readers have often misunderstood my work, even connecting it somehow to something sacrilegious, but you don't read more into my poems than was intended, look for devils around every corner or skew my words according to a narrow belief system. You simplify, illuminate and appreciate.
Just what I needed. Like "the cosmos going about its business" my gratitude knows no bounds.
There are always going to
There are always going to readers who either scorn, misunderstand, or condemn your poems. And keep in mind that even Jesus was accused of being in league with the devil during His ministry. I guess that slaphappy stupidity comes with the territory.
And that territory, please remember, is to help explain the Cosmos to itself. No single Poet can do the complete job; all of us who are called to that vocation have to do the part assigned to us. Remember how Adam, in Eden, was called to name the animals. That task being finished, we are called, as his sons and daughters, to name and explicate the Cosmos and its many parts: and it is everything from two lovers holding hands to two stars arising from the sa,e nebula and orbiting each other. That can be explicated scientifically, but it also quietly requires---even demands---Poetry to also describe this mechanism. This is the vocation to which you have been called, and until your final poem is written, you will have work to do.
J-Called
Thank you for throwing me
Thank you for throwing me that lifeline! And a lifeline filled with radiance, expansive thought and Starward-quality eloquence no less. Really needed to be brought back to reality.
I consider it a privilege to
I consider it a privilege to remind you, as often as needed, of your present greatness, and the magnificent niche your poems will occupy in the future. I may, at times, be repetitious about this.
J-Called
Can't thank you enough for
Can't thank you enough for that!