Thirsty for Light

A poem and a prompt to remind us that there is no light without darkness

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So, I don’t know if you even notice these things, but since May of this year, I’ve been alternating between longer-form posts and “A Poem and a Prompt” posts. If I’d been looking at the calendar, I would have known that this week we were due for a longer piece. But who uses calendars, and what, really, is time?

December is indeed a Bermuda triangle. So I wrote a poem. I think it fits well with my goal to “make the least of the holiday season”—not because poems are lesser than essays, but because mess-ups and unexpected surprises (e.g. giving birth in a stable) should be celebrated this time of year. Anyhoo, here ya go (I played with formatting, so this one is best viewed on a bigger screen).

Emmanuel

                                                                I lie 
                                                              on my 
                                                           side, allow
                                                       my head to rest 
                                                    on cold wood; pour 
                                                carefully with one hand
                                          while the other waits patiently
                                         to sense when she is full.  When 
                                      it takes a long time, I breathe in her 
                                    perfume, hold the bittersweet truth that 
                                she is still so thirsty for life. “Thank you for 
                              filling me too,” I whisper, not ready to stand–
                           the water, the whisper, the bow all I have to offer 
                         in exchange for asking her to die that I might bring 
                                                             the light 
                                                               inside

Image from PublicDomainPictures

The winter solstice is this weekend! Saturday at 4:19 AM EST to be exact. Here is a tiny ritual to celebrate the turning of the year and the return of the light.

1. Wait until after sunset. Find a space where you can turn off all the lights and sit in total darkness for a couple of minutes. Bring a candle, real or electric, but start without it lit.

2. Ask yourself what you appreciate about the dark. What are its gifts? Take a moment to thank the dark for these things.

3. Then consider what light might represent for you in this season. What would you like to welcome in, little by little? What will bring you warmth, clarity, guidance? Take some time to invite these things.

4. Light your candle. Notice what is different. Take a big breath in, and a big breath out.

Thank you, everyone, for continuing to con*spire with me! I will be taking next week off to be with family, but there is a solstice post for paid subscribers coming out 12/21, and I’ll be back on 1/2…probably with another poem as originally planned!

With LIGHT, life, and love,

Devon