Into Dark Solstice - A Poem

We have walked down this way before.

Along trails hooved by deer’s morphing ancestors,

where light-loving leaves give way to moist stone.

We crossed these lands an orbit ago,

the constellations just a little different,

herding us into this shadow valley

where day’s inbreath grows short, and nights outbreath long,

where old calendars exhale completely,

dissolving into dream around us.

A valley of deepest shadow and reverence for light,

when the bright one with whom we brew time is furthest from us,

our fingertips barely brushing across the expanse.

But now, let us pause in this descent,

though we may already yearn to be passing through the valley

and climbing the far slope

and our fingertips to be clasping the bright one’s,

then our palms

and on into union.

Now, let us make a hearth here on this slope,

circle round and share glimpses into the nests of our travel pouches

into dust-cloaked treasures

given, gleamed, borrowed, birthed.

From across oceans, home grown,

from across constellations, sprouted in soil.

As dust riding these treasures gives way to their tastes,

may the biome of our heart-minds find creatures there

to wriggle and enrich us,

tickle our consciousness.

A pause, a breath,

then a passing round of the embers who heard all this.

For each a gentle red pulse.

For each a lantern.

May we then tread down into the valley

to join other circles,

feel other embers and dusty treasures,

and then to be in silence

and let the embers

go out.

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