top of page
Writer's pictureEditorial Staff

Patmos

by Matthew J. Andrews

It is here, under the heavy blanket of silence that accompanies exile, with the body cut

in patterns by the skin wrinkled with age, that he finally understands how one can be

surrounded by life, in a garden of ancient trees swaying in the wind and flowers opening themselves

to the beckoning of sun, and be so empty. How one can look up at the star-speckled

heavens and see the shapes of prowling beasts, each floodlit by the fire on the horizon.

How one can stack stones into temples, blood on the brow, eyes red with grief,

and imagine what it is to be reborn in order to give birth to something new.

Matthew J. Andrews is a private investigator and writer who lives in Modesto, California. His poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Funicular Magazine, The Inflectionist Review, Red Rock Review, Sojourners, Amethyst Review, The Dewdrop, and Deep Wild Journal, among others. He can be contacted at matthewjandrews.com.

0 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Comments


bottom of page