The return

Peter Owen Jones

Published in JHH15.2 Healing Journeys

Now she speaks
in tongues of leaves
sending flies and owls
out onto the road
nothing is imagined

Did you kneel
when the grasses
raised from mud
began to speak with rain
in the houses
walled with dust and light
holding glimpses
of rocks and fields

Did you kneel
heavy with wine
at the gate of the night
as she raised her flames
and let
your horses run

Did you welcome
the autumn
as she routs the trees
and sets
the tomb of winter
deceiving you
with hope

You have made
music out of emptiness
spoken with fish
and demanded
bread and breath.

Your rafts and sails
they never owned
a destination