Solstice The darkest night still waits for morning… even when it feels no ‘welcome.’ Wind sighs— collapses in exhale leaving room for rhythms— ribbons of air… serpentine currents when felt in cavernous dark. Our Lord met us here—in the cave. Allow the dawn, its light to creep slowly—not jarring into the place one’s soul wanders, and wonder… Is there a God, God of goodness who made the light? If you must hold your breath— hold it with the wild possibility that hope—tightly balled into winter’s fist— may find The Child and yet survive. jfig 12/2022 "Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. he chose to give us birth through the word of truth, that we might be a kind of firstfruits of all he created." "James 1 (NIV) - Every good and perfect gift." Blue Letter Bible. Web. 21 Dec, 2022. <https://www.blueletterbible.org/niv/jas/1/17/s_1147017>.
If I wrote this poem for no one else, Lord, I would write it for my friend, who wanders in the dark, knowing that you are God. We all wander, and wonder. And wait…for your faithfulness, which finds us again, and again, and again. You find us, because you are here, waiting as well, breathless with the expectation that we will look up. Thank you…from the humblest of hearts, that you would creep low; tarry that we might bump into you often enough to become familiar…old friends for the journey; and company us safely home. Amen