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Behind Walls of Data

In the Last Green Hours

Crucible of Light

Dogs (A micropoem)

The Angels of Hawksbill Mountain

Beyond the Gates of Orion

Sanctuary Within

The Sacred Opulence of Abundant Joy

Sitting With Stars

Light of the Tempest


Follow the Birdsong

Celestial Rite

One More Moon Beside Me

Legacy of Ash

Born in a Field of Light

Resurrection in Albemarle County

Dialogue With Silence

Moving Past the Dream

Deadly and Merciful Blue

Sky Full of Legends

On the Border of Earth and Being

Who You Really Are

Council of Stars

Scattered As One

Unfinished Bridge To the Infinite

Scenes from Within

Moon of Secrets

Memories of the Kingdom

In the Church of Ordinary Miracles

Finding Religion in Sperryville

Theater of Shadow and Light

Sapphire Birth

Web of Infinity

Voices from a Choir of Stars

Traveler in the Unseen

Into the Silence

A Soft Ascent

Through a Sacred Forest

Innocent Questions

On the Bridge After a Storm

The Sound of Creation

Your Song in the Ivy

Universe Within

New Empire

Another Afterlife

Where the Wind Lives

Another Kind of Prayer

Indigo Fire

Last Inch of Flame

Blue Home

Sacred Crone

What the Deer Understands

Some Water Lilies I Used to Know

Gates of Orion

Requiem for Yesterday

In a Moment of Understanding

April Snow

Symphony in Sable

Justice Denied


Graduation Day

Fire from a Distant Life

Frozen Retreat

Welcome Jack

Remembering Spring

A River's Chant

Shadows of December

Please Live

Unholy Love

A Silent Knowing

Morning Candle

A Multitude of One

Love is Now

Follow the Birdsong 2


Night of the Broken Glass, Revisited

Someone Else's Paradise

Canvas of Gold (A Tribute to Poetry Sites)

On the Edge of a Dead World

A Very Late Apology

It Is You

When Two Hearts beat as One


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


On the Border of Earth and Being

The dogwoods wail in the
powder of daybreak.

Only a distant spring or those
that carry loss
like a noble harvest can
hear them,

and that mist is
cruel softness
until it is a gateway
for all of Heaven,
and I am told:

There's something better,
just not here.

Since when did the path
become the destination?
Even this glittering sorrow
I cannot own.

And to think all this is one
star at the bottom
of our spirit's galaxy—
how long will it take
to know every world within
new worlds,
and some beyond that?

The maples are clawing at
sprays of ground joy,
but the gold is
like our true selves,
unscathed, never touched,
just passing through,
knowing we were never meant
to settle in here
when we pitched our tents
on the border of being—

dear sublime absurdity.

* * *

Look, over here:
here is the stream I never mentioned,
though it has much to say with
a fire-spitting stammer.
Gentle parade of mirrors,
what do you see
that I cannot?

And up there, a vintage blue
that misses nothing,
and down here,
the red earth that
never forgets,

but within, spiraling endlessly,
speaking in light,
tunneling to the center
of where I began,
all I hear is:
Welcome home.

Patricia Joan Jones

©2000 - 2002 Individual Authors of the Poetry. All rights reserved by authors

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