Come, meet me
in my humanity
the two of us together
in this dark space and time
meet me
and between us two
maybe
there will be light, yes,
maybe there will be light.
Tag Archives: darkness
Clutch
Wind roars darkly
blowing Winter’s bare, brittle limbs
across Spring’s path.
Waiting Through
The glass door is decorated with nose-smudges,
tongue-presses, and who-knows-what kinds of fingerprints
while the Christmas window-clings lie sparkling on the floor.
Advent has popped upon the top of me,
quick on the heels of a slow-in-coming Autumn,
a Thanksgiving whose late appearance leaves me rattling.
Our hand-made turkeys still hang on the wall,
probable witnesses to the Epiphany this year:
oxen, sheep, turkey.
Even on these cloudiest and darkest December days
the mess sparkles: strewn toy villages, soggy napkins,
crumpled tissues, packed bedrooms, loose bath towels, squabbling voices.
In the attic, the wreath and four candles wait for me to find them.
