In this time between Christmas and New Year’s Day, I’ve always sensed a particular fragility within myself that has often been expressed as a mixture of dark brooding and hesitant joyfulness. And, as has been my way, I wrote a poem about it. Like a hinge on a door, we swing between the poles of darkness and light if we’re observant enough to notice. Read on, absorb, and rejoice in this sometimes chaotic beauty we call ‘life.’

I. Looking Back From The Cloud

I’ve been hollowed out this hallowed season.

The former scripts have become invalid.

Is it a preparation for the King?

Have all my revels been rung?

Of food, I’ve tasted only the scant, few morsels

of my own self-loathing.

Still, my heart lingers on the vacant boulevards

of human interaction, as it seems to savor a Savior.

Come, rescue me, my Lord.

II. Looking Ahead Through The Cloud

The corner comes in to view, and not too soon.

The script is unwritten; the sky is limitless.

There’s time to prepare for the King.

And the mirth emerging within is a burgeoning feast.

The fare is spare but nutritious.

My heart longs for untrammeled highways

where holiness abounds – a sated spirit within.

Come, abide with me, my Lord.