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  Wings of Light
99707 Poems Read
On the Bridge After a Storm
Once again,
the river and I
are born together,
after the ground
sanctified
itself with rain,
then filled itself
with sky,
cleansed and initiated
into a blue society,
which is exactly what
I wanted—
to be an audience in
the house of beginnings,
like that first lily trying
to be a chalice of light,
like the ragged hope of ferns,
like these new stars
beneath my feet . . .
so much weightless living,
for now.
Tomorrow I'll worry
and believe it's real,
and forget that,
like the river,
we are wider and washed
and something new
after each dream
of defeat,
but for now,
I know this:
It's all
infinite ending,
infinite birth,
one timeless breath,
and we, ourselves,
are like these stars
in flight,
and we
are loved
and never ending.
Patricia Joan Jones
©2000 - 2002 Individual Authors of the Poetry. All rights reserved by authors.
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