Peace in the Pause

The North Atlantic
blew through me
one night, off
the Bay of Galway and
made of me a
tin whistle.

My air was
melancholic, with motifs
of homesickness,
of rootlessness,
an ache for an abiding city.

There was also
tones of ire, inspired by
men lost at sea,
fatherless children,
aching oceans, and
crosses, crosses,
cross.

Yet, you may have
heard, too, some
hope in the silence, some
peace in the pause.

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8 thoughts on “Peace in the Pause

  1. Mary Irene says:

    I hardly have words…..your poetry speaks into the heart ❤ ….peace to you!

  2. shoreacres says:

    The tin whistle imagery is perfect. It recalls the Biblical imagery of man as a reed, played upon by the wind of the Spirit. And isn’t it true that it takes both the tone and the pause to make music — something we too often forget.

    • agjorgenson says:

      I’m glad you found it so. I have to admit that I did not have the biblical reed in mind (or at least at the front of my mind!) when writing this, but am happy for your making this connection. Poetry is like that, it seems.

  3. Very nice, that second stanza esp. We all ache for that abiding city, of course.

  4. diannegray says:

    Such beautiful words and imagery here, Allen.

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