I light a candle on the longest night,
stare deep into the flame, see centuries
of people lighting bonfires in the hills
to plead their case with a fading sun.
They feared their light would disappear,
and so they reached their torches high
and sang sweet songs of Yule
to call it back from death.
I shield the candle in my palm,
go outside and hold up to the sky,
a chalice offered to Midwinter’s
Eve and to the constellations,
those ancient stars who have seen
all solstice nights, all desperate fires,
help us, for the quest remains
the same to find our way to light,
push back the darkness, turn the year
-and turn ourselves as well,
each one of us a tiny flame of hope
held out in trembling hands.
To view Cathy’s previous poem – click here
To view next Cathy Ross poem – click here
