1083

The Dark

Mid-winter's day and Christmas have both passed;

Dull January's darkness marks each hour;

Our Solstice fire is cold, the punch won't last

Beyond this evening, and the wine's turned sour.

Outside the furry golfers are at work

Chipping frozen divots in search of meat

While starlings hang around the hedge or lurk

In hope of scraps which we're not moved to eat.

And here, where all could feel a Christmas joy,

A Yuletide promise shared with all the earth,

The festive lights do little but annoy

Those who would ignore a certain birth.

The darkness of the season may depress

But why so little risk of happiness?

Why so little risk of happiness

When money has brought more than most desire?

Surely our lives must have more finesse

Than simple greed; and do they not require

A sense that to be human is to strive

To go beyond the mundane and the course.

To raise our understanding while alive

Rather than trust in superstitious dross

And myths that put the emphasis on death

Rather than living this life to the full

With love and mercy shown in every breath

We utter regardless of self-centred will?

When I risk speaking with you face to face

A spark of promise lights for the human race.

Brian Hick January 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 6.1.24