Poem of the Week: Surprised by Joy I Turned by Paula Meehan

Surprised by Joy, I Turned

in sleep and woke to a February morning
carrying the dream recurrent
all that second winter of the plague —

a chariot made of ice or so I surmised
ornate and radiant
in the dream sunlight.

I reached my hand to touch
expecting to blast my fingers
the way what is cold

can feel like fire.
My hand was wet: the chariot
was made of water

held together by an act of my own will.
I understood.
It was intention that kept the molecules spinning

in their proper order,
the absolute attention of my dreaming self.
Every night I dreamt that dream

I expected ice, found water,
and every night I kept the transport
fit for purpose,

the journey into the new morning
carrying its cargo of joy,
its rags of light

home to you, my beauty,
to the morning’s cloud herding,
to the dishevelled dawn.

Today’s poem is from Paula Meehan’s new collection, The Solace of Artemis (Dedalus Press)