Waiting for the dawn


The longest night is very close now. The dark comes before we know it, and lasts so long. On these western fringes our fires burn small – pinpricks of light in the wide darkness. The warmth of summer, the plenty of autumn – these are memories. Food is hoarded against the midwinter feasting, and after that we will hunger a little.

If we look to the north, we see only the night. Further west there is the wide restless sea – and nothing. In the southern sky, there is a bright star with a lesser in attendance. But it is to the east that we look, the eastern sky where the rim of light will grow, the distant lands where, long ago already, something wonderful happened. More wonderful still: it happens again and again, coming to assuage our darkness at the year’s turning, bringing light to the hidden places of our hearts, promising us that we have not been forgotten.

It is dark now, but it will be light. The child will bring it. Come, Lord Jesus.

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About goforchris

Former English teacher on the loose. Writes poetry when the muse gets going - catch them at http://frankly-chris.blogspot.com - and posts innumerable photos on flickr under the name goforchris

3 thoughts on “Waiting for the dawn

  1. Fantastic. Spacious, searing, vast, expectant, wonderful. The feeling I get from your words is like what C S Lewis described as ‘Pure Northernness’ – icy, clean, clear, still, silent, remote, other, limitless. Yet into all this, light, and warmth.


    Keep writing!

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