You wait a long time for Christmas morning
drifting asleep even as the ebony slate of sky
shatters in clarion silence
and shepherds in the hills cast down their rods
look up at angels and find themselves
no longer huddled in darkness
but lucent between the stars.
You, no longer a child but still drifting,
enter the mystery that is darkness
willing to open the gift inside your own singing
recognizing the song of songs from the first Eve—
We all live for the Light
that the lowly born, a glimmer, leads
and you wake up, still in the dark
but watchful and ready now.
Sandra M. Tully is a Wisconsin poet, educator, and community spiritual leader.
Image: Burning candles, Elena Itsenko  / Shutterstock.com