Monday, December 14, 2009

Advent


As the winter solstice settles,
A dark December's eventide,
The hopes and fears of all the years,
Are prayers breathed and denied.
Where the advent in times of war?
And the healing of what divides?

A candle lit upon a wreath,
A light burns still in places dark.
Which hints of perfect peace to come,
In cynic times a hope will spark.

Among the poorest of the poor,
The story goes something like this,
A nowhere place, when it was time,
A human cub chose to exist,
And God with us in times of woe,
A love story that does persist.

Another flame burns with the first,
A wreath half crowned in simple faith,
In pitch black incandescence seeps,
Life to them who walk as wraith.

And those who live outside the walls,
With sight suited to dark midnight,
Are first to see the seraph mirth,
Stars and sorrows eclipsed in light,
Sweet that succor will first comfort,
Those empty handed, and contrite.

The wreath now nearly all aglow,
A third wick lit, blackens and burns,
Still solace flames to souls beckon,
Joys will answer for which we yearn.

And all who live in places dark,
Seek the song of the Seraphim,
That Advent peace — and Advent love,
May fill the trunk and every limb,
That darkness will not overcome,
That earth will team in Holy hymn.

The candles burn, four then five,
Fear and trembling and quiet awe.
The center flame within the wreath,
Avows the end of tooth and claw.

Birth of peace,
In the Advent,
of the light,
of the Christ,
Child.

Sunday, December 6, 2009

Crystals


In the briefest hours of day,
Feel the wintry zephyrs blow,
And crystalline waters sway,
Within the glacial air flow,
Dancing below clouds o' gray,
O'er boonies and boroughs grow,
Blanket.

Flakes of filament woven,
Some secret artisan craft,
Bond in some covert coven,
Defects on wings of a draft,
Tottering toss from heaven,
Riding a winding air shaft,
Alights.

Solstice moon — aloft the earth,
Beckons the diamonds to laud,
Stained glass illumined in worth,
Breathes awe in hymn and ballad,
A strange fear mingled with mirth,
Crystal chancel o'er the sod,
Reveals.

The quiet,
The flakes,
The presence.

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Tide


In elan vital — a spark,
That flickers and ignites,
Cocooned within the dark,
A soul to cells alights,
Then flesh and blood embark,
On a road of endless sights.
Formation.

Mouth gapes in expectation,
Salve and sustenance abound,
Coddled at each sensation,
Every lulling soothing sound,
Are tenderness in relation,
As love swaddles and surrounds,
Protection.

Threshold the nubile and naive,
Leaving nest and kin behind,
Naught to worry, nor to grieve,
Strength in surety of mind,
Choices are the warp and weave,
Of the blind leading the blind.
Direction.

And dawdling, the waters ebb,
Revealing the detritus below,
The threads entangle as a web,
Tatters the cloth of life and woe,
A hard awakening — a common pleb!
A spirit sinks, and is brought low.
Disaffection.

The days and the years grow long,
Dreams wash away with the tide.
No longer to this time belong,
Mortals with a banished pride.
Ear inclined to hear the song,
The sea whispers as it subsides.
Resurrection.