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  Wings of Light
99493 Poems Read
Who You Really Are
I know I am home
when I am far
away,
and the first tremor
of life in the
blind forest
is music heard
as light,
and I am moved
to tears by a
bottomless something
from a time when
life was more than a
locked spot
in the privacy of
my own memories—
when finally I find
everything I need
when there is nothing
left inside me,
not even mortal love
in too many
costumes,
under too many
names,
not even an oceanic
love that is
all about the rising,
the shattering,
the luscious death,
but today,
under a lather of pines
and an unfolding Heaven,
its alias is One.
Give me That, here, now
in the lavishness
of birth—
The last time I
died here
I stayed earthbound
as the slithering shadows,
but now,
I am the power I
was searching for.
I was always here.
Can you see it,
untamed planet?
Can you see it,
beautiful seeker,
so adored just for being,
so boundless you are equal
to all the dreams that
become you?
Everything known and seen,
untouched and unseen
and beyond it still:
You are That.
Patricia Joan Jones
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