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Morning Candle
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Family & Friends I want your handprints in the sand,
the faraway sand,
the sand with its own light,
broken and crackling under our feet.
Can you show me again the earth,
ocean-winged bird,
painting the sky of your new
soft dreams?
I want that feathered blossom
when I saw it through your eyes,
when frogs were cherubs and
leaves were precious
and you could wear them or
splash them against the
apple-flavored air,
and I could lift you above
the earth when the earth
was pastel,
and it handled us gently as
if we were its ancient
beating heart,
when the sun scattered its
red soul across the sea
and died too young.
If I could fly backwards and
meet you there, I would plow
the clouds like Aurora and
bring the kindest sun, a gold
tissue, to your crib before
you had a chance to fear
the day.
I would hold yesterday like
God in a blanket and
bleed love till I fainted by
your side, and
I would swallow every sorrow
and snatch your words before
they fluttered in droves past
my ears, through
the knives that cut them into
memories behind my eyes.
I would.
Oh lantern of joy and sadness,
spirit breaking out of a
robin's egg morning,
tall candle exploring the skies
like pines,
eyes cracking open your
personal moon,
Are you leaving me minute by
minute?
Who will shatter the marble leaves?
Who will catch the frogs
when they break the paper-thin air?
by Patricia Joan Jones
I wanted to add comment to my
I wanted to add comment to my revisit of this poem tonight. I looked at the original posting date---you were already an accomplished poet when I was still on my "start-out" time in the early 2000's. I am particularly smitten with the stanza in which you address the spirit, as it breaks forth from a robin's egg morning, as a lantern of joy and sadness. This is one of the most perfectly crafted lines I have encountered here, and I just needed to mention that.
"
Starward
I can't thank you enough for
I can't thank you enough for revisiting this gift to my dear Pauline and for appreciating that line I hoped would accomplish what I intended. Your stamp of approval confirms it. Overflowing with gratitude. God bless.
I remember robin's egg
I remember robin's egg mornings at that magical place that was my grandparents' home. It was also what we consider to be Easter egg blue, and probably the beginning, in my young mind, of blue as a metaphor (although I did not know what metaphor was). Your poems resonate into my soul and remind me of so much that I have filed too far away. At my age, that is such a blessing. Thank you for helping me to become more mature; more appreciative of those things I have not always appreciated well.
Starward
What a stunning and
What a stunning and heartwarming comment. Can't thank you enough.
Our children zip into our world like hummingbirds sipping the nectar of our knowledge, flitting from one experience to another, leaving the taste of wonderment behind every time they leave. Ah-h-h, they are so prescious and grateful am I to have had the chance to be a voyeur in the journey.
Lady, your work is breath-taking.
Jessica
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