The denouement of this day is long, so long,
even though morning’s sheen wore off worry,
polished any dullness with a lick of sun escaping.
A shimmer of expectancy colored time
so that the year’s cracked shards were kept
in place by a paste of will and hope.
This Christmas Day: an awkward, mended beauty.
There came movement between whole and parts,
small but needed seesaws.
A barrage of rain loosened sky’s heaviness.
Music’s enchantment scooped extra weight,
tossed all into the well of deeper hearts.
Prayer and wonder, a hand on shoulder,
laughter rising to the top, chai and babka-
such things bear pains and puzzles of life.
And yet, the greatest victory is not made
of these but endurance while
spun in, out of sorrow and amazement.
Longings, dangers, frailties-
words spoken, unspoken-
so much wanted, denied and replaced.
The music and candlelight loosened
this confinement: darkness now is lit with
exaltations and whispers of love.
God holds steady as I move
beyond precarious moments.
Faith winnows all offerings like a good psalm,
and it seeds this night with mysteries of the Divine.
It is a good Christmas; we have survived.
It is another day passing. It is this life given and received.
A long time of it, still; body and soul reach for rest.
I close my eyes, see the snow of childhood,
its flung nets, its dome of splendor,
and leave the ache of bitter and sweet.
Tomorrow will soon appear, a white flower
on the verge of blooming inside the spill of fresh rain.