You step out into the mauve-dark morning and God is there,
in a thick quilt of snow.
It’s hard to name the calm: a few lights in porches,
some chimney smoke, but not a single tire turning.
A calm you’d find in some lunar library.
You know that somewhere, someone is slipping off the highway,
someone is sliding into a needle, someone is anxious
about Christmas, someone’s morning is morphine,
against the pain, someone is bitching, being almost famous,
someone is curled up in loneliness, someone is replaying
their tragicomic romance, someone is sinking into
madness, someone is bone-weary, without a strategy.
You stand with your feet in snow and watch the whiteness
fall past the lamp post, like pollen, like nectar.
You can smell the frankincense of snow, the myrrh
of burning cedar, and in the absence of an eastern star
you lift your eyes to the haloed street light, and sing!
You sing as though rage, money, religion,
had never made a hole in music.
And with the Holy Mystery so close,
you direct your song:
Inscribe us in your Book of Light,
crown us with loving-kindness, crown us
with the moon’s own merciful-tenderness,
and heal us under the cover of darkness,
keep it dark,
keep it calm,
prevent high noon and heal us,
stay the sun’s verdict and heal us.
Heal us here, where we are —
in the ditch wrenching open the car door,
walking into the breakers with pockets full of beach stones,
dying at a desk, jaw set for the wrong success,
lying under grief’s long astonishing sigh —
O Light of Lights, write our names in the Book of Life,
just the way, inscribed on our hearts,
are the names of those we love, O Child of Peace,
and those we’ve yet learned to love.
Wishing you a blessed and beautiful Christmas!
May we all be poets when it comes to the mauve dark morning
or anytime we put our foot into it
I am so grateful for you, Stephen
Thank you, Leelah, for your kindness!
Thanks for this reminder of those for whom this season is not Merry.
Thank you, Don.
This poem captures the ebb and tide of my emotions this time of year: the peace, the elation, the deep pain and the cry for help. Thank you.
Thank you for reading, Dan, and for your kindness.
A beautiful prayer for healing – the possibility of singing after the things make holes in the music (there’s a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in) – to be included in the Book of Life, and to be inclusive in the books that are our hearts ….
The theology here is dense and expansive…. thanks so much.
As always, thank you, Sam, for your words, and for your encouragement.
One of the most beautiful poems! Thank you thank you.
Thank you, Peggy!
Stephen, this is so full, so rich in understanding and pain and hope.
Still pondering “a hole in music.”
The last stanza brought tears.
Thank you.
Merry Christmas!
Thank you so much, Deane, that means a lot!
Stephen, you are a light in this world
of blessed souls.
Seems your heart and mine are very old friends,
and the gifts you give
enrich us all. -^-
Have a blessed Christmas, all good wishes to you and your family.
tamara
Truly grateful for your words! Thank you, Tamara! I love the idea of old heart-friends!
“In acceptance lies peace.” (Elisabeth Elliot). Not endorsement or resignation, but an acknowledgment of reality beyond our scope to heal. Yours is an open hand toward ever-present gifts. A hard-won, illusive serenity.
Beautiful, quieting words. Thank you.
Dear Joyce, a deep thank you!