Are the temporal tombs of midwinter,
The irreducable reminders of passing time,
The folly of ambition and undone intention.
Does the heart dare to open its eyes?
Dangled lights, trees and happiness:
These baubles only taunt the fragile soul,
Only blink with lamentation and loneliness:
So many convictions betrayed in a lifetime.
Has every opportunity fallen with the sun?
Just now, though, night's eternity, late advent,
And you draw near and you whisper starlight,
And longer days, the possibility,
Maybe even the promise, of resurrection.
Was this tomb not sealed by stony despair?
No! Heaven's joy, sweet light of salvation!
No! Hidden witness to the Rising of Christ!
Shine now, in the darkest hour of december;
Open every heart, shut fast by cynicism and hurt.
Angel of Night, glory is your name, your song!
For born in these shadows is love's Light,
And all you ask is that we open our eyes:
Late advent, yes!
Dark december, yes!
This sweet and sacred solstice.
DGJ
12/21/19
