Winter Solstice, 2009

The dark time
when no thought of redemption can be gleaned
when minutes long and hours inconceivable
and days
whoever said the days would grow shorter as age
increased
was wrong for the fallen angels who are ready to
go, and go, and go again and yet long to stay for the next
story
dogs barking bring my feet to a halt and back to
center as my mind wanders into the next song
and no memory and on my knees again

the dark time is strong like a storm raging
it covers the land and the sounds of rain in a california
town memories of snow forts and ice skates in the east
holiday the time when father loved
and after a day fell into rage then silence
etched into each ornament on my body I know the father
the tree
I know the mother and children of a soldier destroyed
I have access to a relative and time bound truth
and if Jesus saves
and if Buddha brings tidings of peace
and if Krishna plays his flute and lays flowers
at my feet
can the darkness carry me on this river
down to the end of the street and soul
to a newer, lighter, warmer time
and there was never a warmer time
than now.
I light the fire
I fan the flames
I smell the incense of love and loss
and rejoice that I can still feel
when so many have lost that art
the art of alive
the art of dying
the art of giving
of rejoicing
angel come.