A Winter's Birth


"Love cannot be said"
Jelaluddin Rumi 


Speak to me and your words
will adorn me;
I will apply them, ceremoniously,
like tribal scars,

but great minds speak
without words
as you have spoken to me
since the day I learned
your language in
your arms.


Transcribing it now,
I scroll back the winters
when trees were smoke
the shape of softer days,
when one night crushed the
rebellious day with

A ring marked the moment
that separated my one self
from the other--one world
where I walked with a shadow,
the other where I walked
with two--
the thin gold line,
also a chasm I never hope
to cross.


And then when you were
called to the sea--the cruelest
chasm--you ran off with all
my best dreams,
the ones that glowed like
Autumn's cathedral,
the ones that convinced me
I could fly--
taken to the other side
of the world.

On those days,
slow as needlepoint,
your absence crowding me
like fear,
I took you into each frail
morning, and you trailed me
like the last note of a
symphony perfuming the air. 


You returned and left and returned
while youth,
that blizzard of splendid stupidity,
thawed a little every day,
and I found you again
after the crows of pride
had been shot one by one
and all that was left was
this hope to nurture. 


When life was a riddle
the rabid world couldn't
you figured it out,
you gave me the answer:
it was in everything you do.  

You illuminated me with
your countless acts
of kindness
then stood back and
watched me shine.

And you never realized
that the gold I reflected
was all the love you
gave to me.


And I believe it was in
that starry shower
when I discovered I
couldn't have it all--
just everything that mattered.


How do you outshine
someone who created your light?
How do you improve a script
that began with the
ranting wind of dreams
and ended with everything?

I could say you are
my memories
and the scattered saffron
of each new day
or the space where I
begin and end,
but it would never
match your language.


I can only ask you to
keep on speaking:
create this life and  
stay till it is over.


by Patricia Joan Jones

Author's Notes/Comments: 

An anniversary gift for my husband.

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saiom's picture

your "when you were
called to the sea--the cruelest
chasm--you ran off with all
my best dreams,
the ones that glowed like
Autumn’s cathedral"

Thank you for scattering your jewels
for all as you walk along the path.



saiom's picture

Dear master poet,

Your words remind me of
Sai Baba's "be silent like the rose
which communicates only through fragrance".

Each of your poems: a necklace of many jewels



Pei-Rung Chung's picture

hello, dear Patricia,

I really love this poem, it gives me a very fresh but whole new different endurance through your presentation of the emotion you've aspired from the winter's birth. And this title is great and fascinating, and your style of writing is pretty enchanting.:)