Poem by Joanna Nealon

Illustration by James Conant



September

Return to the chapel of the holy Dawn,
Where you find your way into morning light,
Your mind tracing the gentle lines
Of all the love you have ever known;
The faces of children
And the flowers in their hands,
And your face,
Lifted to listening Angels,
Who waited by your window,
Breathing joy,
Because your belief was innocence.
Return,
Though innocence has fled,
And do not raise head from pillow
'Til you have sent your soul
To the kneeling-place of Day,
From where, arising,
You are free
To gather thistles
Or autumn roses.