Tremble, you who see only
earth and sky as you
camp here at the border
of heaven and hell
and swallow the fury
whole with one glance.
I’ve come here to die
countless times and walked
away more a spirit
than a body
after trying on light
and water like silken robes.
The sea never rests
but dreams a new dream
every moment,
buried under fire
and safe from scrawny,
rabid souls that
stalk power.
It has earned itself
a thousand names
like Sorcerer and Genesis
and Fear,
and here I can chisel
wisdom out of raw wonder
and feast upon sounds
that turn the wind into
stallions and translate
into silence.
I can follow serpents
to their depths and
live their dreams
or grow wings like the
waves that fly and plunge--
a violent birth and death
in the same moment.
And I wish my well-aged
hate would die as quickly,
I wish I could either
live or be as drunk as
the blue that reduces
me to a child.
Living seems possible here
only because the same God
that enrages the waters
concocted those confused
little crabs that make
complex creatures smile.
So generous with water,
so lavish with light,
now crashing and burning
on blue like
delirious constellations.
If the same heart that
gave us light gives us love
then we control the tides
and the sea is just
a trinket in our palms.
Tremble, you who drink
indigo fire
and see no God.
Dare to believe,
and welcome home,
sun-drenched and dancing,
your prodigal dreams.


by Patricia Joan Jones

This poem was chosen Poem of the Week at The Golden Quill Poetry forum, and received the Galadrial's Goblet at Galadrial's Respite and The Excellence Award at The Golden Quill. It was nominated for the Net Poetry and Arts Competition. Published in Poetry Sharings Journal and Voices Magazine.