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Shadows of December

A Very Late Apology

It Is You

Another Afterlife

When Two Hearts beat as One

A River's Chant

THE WOLD LIKE THIS!

His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us

The Sound of Creation

On the Edge of a Dead World

Unholy Love

Fire from a Distant Life

Follow the Birdsong

Archibald

Frozen Retreat

A Silent Knowing

Sacred Crone

Welcome Jack

Morning Candle

Please Live

A Multitude of One

Love is Now

Remembering Spring

Canvas of Gold (A Tribute to Poetry Sites)

Someone Else's Paradise

April Snow

Night of the Broken Glass, Revisited

In a Moment of Understanding

Requiem for Yesterday

Forbidden

Visions Released

Intense Imagery (A Haiku)

For our child

Dance Upon Shadows

A Rose

Night bus home

A Comfort Sent to You

Black Lung

Restless

January 14th 1995

Foolish hearts

Heart to Heart

Returning Hero

Old and New

Words

Shades

Clutch

Going back

The Warrior

Facing reality

In the wind

Loyal soldier

Lifespan

Sitting

Living machine

Revolution in Bloom

I Am Not Spoiled Stinky Curdled Milk

Yes, Leonard...It's Math Again Tonight

Winds of time

The Power

What

Hungry for life

Autumn

 

A Very Late Apology



For my daughter


I walk alone where
you used to play,
the oaks more like
a chapel
where the last light
has set the saints
and apostles on fire,
the way your mind used
to dazzle the ghosts
of the forest.

Now they are wrung out
souls like knotted words
and rough-hewn excuses,
lost in flames so
beautiful they sting my
eyes and drain
the air around me.

And finally I understand
that yesterday was your
every chance and
my everything.

Angels don't fall to
earth,
they awaken in the arms
of sleepless, broken
mothers;
they are giants inside
restless seeds, holding
all the towering hopes
of a hundred years
or more

and I was the keeper of
your world.

In the hungry winds
of spring,
when our real lives
are just beginning,
it was easy to believe
you would always be
laughing here,

where love was as soft
as luna moths when they
were paper dancers in the
glassy nights you feared.

Now I wear your pain like
this nightfall
wears sorcery
and never sheds
its blazing peril,
only draws us in to
want it more.

If I had only known then
that now is all there is.

Falling forever in the
stars you used to study,
unquestioning stars you
knew well as you reached
for a stripped down, one note,
believable truth,

a place so far from here

like the dream of
an easy life
that passed into winters
and clean linen summers,
a dream that brushed against
your skin like secrets,

always a part of the night,
part of the cricket song
we come to know as the
heartbeat of darkness,
just outside the gates
of sunrise.

After the journey,
perhaps, return to
the beginning and find
what was perfect there:
the moment we greeted the
world together
and how, to one
student of humility
you were the universe,

and now, in this torn
and churning night, for
everything I didn't do
when I had everything,
I finally say:
I'm sorry.


Patricia Joan Jones





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