An advent poem

Winter definitely isn't my favourite meteorological season, but I think Advent possibly is my favourite liturgical season. Advent is filled with so much imagery which resonates with my sense of faith: images of light shining in dark places; images of a sense of anticipation and that there is so much more still to be revealed; images of trust, of promise and of hope.

While I love the one and am not a massive fan of the other, it does work for me that, here, Advent and winter coincide. My faith is not one which seeks to deny the darkness; it is one which recognises that God's promise comes into the midst of our messy reality. It is a faith of starlight, candle-light and fairy-lights: that while the dark is still there, fragile lights flicker and somehow manage to make everything more beautiful. My hope is not some naïve belief that everything will magically all turn out ok, but that in some mysterious way we will never fully understand, love does still triumph over hate. 

This poem attempts to capture something of those sentiments.

Shrouded in darkness
Winter comes
Weighing 

Damp and heavy on the earth

Huddled together
Exhaling clouds of breath

A whispered invitation

To tilt our faces

Look up

The dark is still dark
But as clouds part
Winter sun breaks through
Pale but promisingly present

The dark is still dark
But casting its warm glow
A candle flame flickers
And pierces the gloom

The dark is still dark
But twisted into branches
Colourful lights twinkle
To raise a smile

The dark is still dark
But reaching across time and space
Stars, bright and burning, shine
Pinpricks of light in the night sky

An intake of breath
The glimmer of a promise

Look up

The dark is still dark
But gestures of love stubbornly sparkle
An invitation to trust 
To cling to tentative hope

And so
with bated breath
we wait

together

in hushed silence

Dawn breaks
And the spring will come

Look up