These are dark times. Rumors of war
rise like smoke in the east. Drought
widens its misery. In the west, glittering towers
collapse in a pillar of ash and dust. Peace,
a small white bird, flies off in the clouds.
And this is the shortest day of the year.
Still, in almost every window,
a single candle burns,
there are tiny white lights
on evergreens and pines,
and the darkness is not complete.
"Solstice" by Barbara Crooker. Text as posted on Kingdom Poets (12/15/2014). © Barbara Crooker. Reprinted by permission of the poet. Art credit: "Christmas," photograph by soulkissfaerie.
Curator's note: Please take my two-minute survey before A Year of Being Here concludes on January 1. It will help me (and any potential publishers) decide upon an anthology of mindfulness poetry.
solstice/the Virgin Mary receives/a new light bulb
ReplyDeletesolstice/the Virgin Mary receives/a new light bulb
ReplyDeleteHi Barbara,
ReplyDeleteI found your post on Pinterest. This is really a good share.
Thank you !
I am very sympathetic to your viewpoint.
ReplyDeleteSo much in so few lines. Perfectly captures a real darkness along with the hope as we turn toward the light.
ReplyDelete