Poetry by Joe Barca

                 ​Groveland Media CC



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Blue Under

I’m drowning
in a sea of things 
that I do not understand.

So I stop swimming,
stop fighting,
float on my back.

I stay honest,
face the sun,
and let the swells lift me.

I let surrender
become the savior,

and the waves
become the way. 





Early Thorn 

be it such that we experience 
the pain before the grace 
 
(a prayer, a hymn, a psalm
I touch god’s chest)
 
that the shadows spin 
before the soft webbed glass 
 
(as frost recedes
we shed our layers last)
 
that wings hesitate 
before they stand erect
 
(as the purple corpse of winter 
is reluctantly laid to rest)

and the pale unveils 
the gloom before sun’s crest

​

Joe Barca is a poet from New England. He is a husband, a father, and the owner of a Wheaten Terrier. He is a fast talker and a slow runner.

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