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Desolate and Perfect Now
There's something
about the Earth
when it no
longer speaks,
something about an
immobile, gray
everything—
even the wind
carved in stone,
river mist like
dreams of Vesuvius,
calm that
doesn't wait for
the sun,
quiet oozing
like snakes
from the wet
branches:
This is either
cast-iron despair
or peace,
while within gleams a
prism of varying
shades of hope.
It's a counterfeit joy,
but it's enough,
so I'll take
the delicate violence
of solitude,
the phantom chains
of stillness,
the soundless opera,
tragic and opulent,
the symphonic tomb,
the sacrament of ice,
the tiniest
parts of God—
each one the cosmos.
I'll take Now
because it
is everlasting
and all possibilities
and all we need
and every world
right here.
Patricia Joan Jones
This feels like a quiet
This feels like a quiet surrender to the present—an acceptance of stillness, of solitude,
of the ambiguous space between despair and peace.
The imagery is striking, sculpting a world where even movement is frozen,
where mist becomes memory and silence carries a weight of its own.
There's something deeply reflective about this—acknowledging the bleakness yet refusing to reject it,
instead finding meaning in its eerie beauty.
The final lines hold the most power. "I'll take Now" can be seen as statement of choice,
of willingness, of recognising that the present—however stark,
however imperfect—is all there is. In that acceptance, there is a kind of freedom.
Even in stillness, even in quiet desolation, there is room for thought,
for existence, for the smallest fragments of hope.
Should the reader be feeling the pull of solitude, the weight of reflection, we can know that we are not alone in it.
And maybe, like the poem suggests, there is something to be found in simply being—
without needing to force an answer, without needing to define where we are.
Sometimes, it is enough to simply exist. We are here, and that is what matters.
here is poetry that doesn't always conform
galateus, arkayye, arqios,arquious, crypticbard, excalibard, wordweaver
I’m deeply moved and simply
I’m deeply moved and simply stunned by your deep dive into my expression. You unwrapped it precisely how I wanted it to unfold and you spotlighted the epicenter with profound insight and gorgeous artistry.
Beaming with gratitude, accomplished and luminous Poet!
I feel truly honoured to have
I feel truly honoured to have connected with your expression in the way you intended. It’s a rare and beautiful thing when art and understanding align so effortlessly. Thank you for your luminous gratitude and for sharing your brilliance with us. The world is brighter with poets like you!
here is poetry that doesn't always conform
galateus, arkayye, arqios,arquious, crypticbard, excalibard, wordweaver
everlasting – and full of possibility
Me, I see an ominous night with dark tendrils reaching down from the sky, while hope floats away from the observer like gossamer on a wild torrent of wind – as an all-encompassing powerful storm moves in. It is coming to sweep everything away. The cast-iron despair – is the end of all things. While the counterfeit joy is a sober peace – in letting go of the entire mirage of hope… embracing the soundless opera of an icy symphonic tomb – only to be absorbed as a tiny spectacle of dust by God and the Cosmos – which is in fact, everlasting – and full of possibility.
Thank you again and again for
Thank you again and again for that breathtaking encapsulation of my expression. Always honored by your presence, gifted Poet.
As this poem begins, one
As this poem begins, one reading it for the first time will be inclined to think it is a dismal poem. The poem begins with a silenced Earth, certainly from a cataclysmic event (although the Poet does not define that event); then she brings in a grayness, a dismal condition so gray the wind becomes a part of the stone. She tells us that river mists become like dreams of Vesuvius---perhaps one of the most effective metaphors of cataclysm in human history. Mention of Vesuvius, like mentioning, say, the Titanic, is a metonomy of disaster and cataclysm. Then she uses a word I consider bone-chilling in the context of this poem . . . "iron-clad." But then, within the iron-clad condition, she detects a gleaming of hope. But she does not reject the iron-clad situation, although she describes it further as a soundless opera, a symphonic tomb, and a sacrament of ice (in these concepts, her perspective leans---I think---toward that of Wallace Stevens, especially in his poem, "The Snow Man"). But she finds in these parts the presence of God, and she recognizes that these are also parts of the Cosmos. The Cosmos contains things we often do not want to consider: rogue asteroids that can wipe out millions of dinosaurs; neutonr stars that can devour even light, and crush everything in their grasp to something less than the particles within an atom. These are also parts of the Cosmos, and they correspond to those symphonic tombs.
But, in being able to recognize the existence of these things, we demonstrate our sentience. A houseplant knows neither neutron stars nor rogue asteroids, and doesn't care because it doesn't know that it doesn't know. It is in our cognizance of depair, even when seeming iron-clad, that we can find gleamings of hope and joy: this is a spiritual sentience that, I personally believe, is alone in the created Cosmos. But it is an awareness, and also can be an appreciation, of sentient existence. And that is part of the vocation that I have suggested, elsewhere, with which we have been tasked by the Creator: to explain the Cosmos to itself. In this poem, as in all of her Cosmis poems, Patricia does this; and by allowing us to hear her explanations, she makes us better than we have been.
Starward-Led [in Chrismation, Januarius]
I'm always delighted when you
I'm always delighted when you take the time to create an anatomy of one of my poems, complete with its intent and methodology. That's quite a luxury, a prized gift, for any writer! I just can't thank you enough for such a detailed deconstruction and such accurate insight into the poem's purpose.
We're all so blessed to have you as a pivotal and cherished part of our community. I can apply your own eloquent words to my opinion of the comments you grace us with:
He "makes us better than we have been".
My deepest gratitude.