“Christmas Light” by May Sarton

When everyone had gone
I sat in the library
With the small silent tree,
She and I alone.
How softly she shone!

And for the first time then
For the first time this year,
I felt reborn again,
I knew love’s presence near.

Love distant, love detached
And strangely without weight,
Was with me in the night
When everyone had gone
And the garland of pure light
Stayed on, stayed on.

“Christmas Light” by May Sarton. Text as published in Collected Poems 1930-1993 (W. W. Norton, 1993).

“This Poem Belongs to You” by David Whyte

This poem
belongs to you
and is already finished,

it was begun years ago
and I put it away

knowing it would come
into the world
in its own time.

In fact
you have already read it,
and closing the pages
of the book,

you are now
abandoning the projects
of the day and putting on
your shoes and coat
to take a walk.

It has been long years
since you felt like this.

You have remembered
what I remembered,
when I first began to write.

David Whyte
from The House of Belonging 
©2007 Many Rivers Press

~~~

Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas, everyone. I look forward to seeing you in the new year when we shall, simply, begin again  . . .  ~Christy  (Happy Birthday, Mom, I miss you every day.)

 

“Our Story” by William Stafford

(taking a digital break for a while … hope to see you all soon. love, christy)


Remind me again—together we
trace our strange journey, find
each other, come on laughing.
Some time we’ll cross where life
ends. We’ll both look back
as far as forever, that first day.
I’ll touch you—a new world then.
Stars will move a different way.
We’ll both end. We’ll both begin.

Remind me again.

“Freedom” by William Stafford (repost)

Freedom is not following a river.
Freedom is following a river
though, if you want to.

It is deciding now by what happens now.
It is knowing that luck makes a difference.

No leader is free; no follower is free–
the rest of us can often be free.
Most of the world are living by
creeds too odd, chancy, and habit-forming
to be worth arguing about by reason.

If you are oppressed, wake up about
four in the morning; most places
you can usually be free some of the time
if you wake up before other people.

from The Way It Is: New and Selected Poems
Copyright 1998 by Graywolf Press

***

Originally posted May 26, 2016; Brian Dean Powers included this piece during “Words With Brian” (his week of “hosting” Words for the Year). See his other selections here.

 

“Remembering” by William Stafford

When there was air, when you could
breathe any day if you liked, and if you
wanted to you could run. I used to
climb those hills back of town and
follow a gully so my eyes were at ground
level and could look out through grass as the
stems
bent in their tensile way, and see snow
mountains follow along, the way distance goes.

Now I carry those days in a tiny box
wherever I go, I open the lid like this
and let the light glimpse and then glance away.
There is a sigh like my breath when I do this.
Some days I do this again and again.

William Stafford, from The Darkness Around Us Is Deep