Morning Candle

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I want your handprints in the sand,
the faraway sand,

 

the sand with its own light,
broken and crackling under our feet.

 

Can you show me again the earth,
ocean-winged bird,
painting the sky of your new
soft dreams?

 

I want that feathered blossom
when I saw it through your eyes,
when frogs were cherubs and
leaves were precious
and you could wear them or
splash them against the
apple-flavored air,

 

and I could lift you above
the earth when the earth
was pastel,
and it handled us gently as
if we were its ancient
beating heart,

 

when the sun scattered its
red soul across the sea
and died too young.

 

If I could fly backwards and
meet you there, I would plow
the clouds like Aurora and
bring the kindest sun, a gold
tissue, to your crib before
you had a chance to fear
the day.

 

I would hold yesterday like
God in a blanket and
bleed love till I fainted by
your side, and
I would swallow every sorrow
and snatch your words before
they fluttered in droves past
my ears, through
the knives that cut them into
memories behind my eyes.

 

I would.

 

Oh lantern of joy and sadness,
spirit breaking out of a
robin's egg morning,
tall candle exploring the skies
like pines,
eyes cracking open your
personal moon,

 

Are you leaving me minute by
minute?
Who will shatter the marble leaves?
Who will catch the frogs
when they break the paper-thin air?

 

 

by Patricia Joan Jones

Author's Notes/Comments: 

For my daughter. This received the Galadrial's Goblet Award at Galadrial's Respite poetry forum and was chosen Poem of the Week at The Golden Quill Poetry forum.

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Starward's picture

I remember robin's egg

I remember robin's egg mornings at that magical place that was my grandparents' home.  It was also what we consider to be Easter egg blue, and probably the beginning, in my young mind, of blue as a metaphor (although I did not know what metaphor was).  Your poems resonate into my soul and remind me of so much that I have filed too far away.  At my age, that is such a blessing.  Thank you for helping me to become more mature; more appreciative of those things I have not always appreciated well. 


Starward

[ * /+/ ^ ]

patriciajj's picture

What a stunning and

What a stunning and heartwarming comment. Can't thank you enough. 

onelilartist's picture

Our children zip into our world like hummingbirds sipping the nectar of our knowledge, flitting from one experience to another, leaving the taste of wonderment behind every time they leave. Ah-h-h, they are so prescious and grateful am I to have had the chance to be a voyeur in the journey.

Lady, your work is breath-taking.

Jessica onelilartist