Poems of Advent Week 1

Exploring the Dark Waters

As I mentioned in my last post, I’m spending some time exploring the dark waters of Advent in a retreat my Spiritual Director is offering. Before Advent began we were invited to write out 22 prompts based on our current longings. Each day in Advent we’re engaging creatively with one of the prompts. For me, that includes writing a poem based on the prompt each day. This is, essentially, a continuation of my November practice of writing a poem a day. I haven’t taken the time to edit these yet, and some are more fully formed than others, but I thought I would offer them here a week at a time during Advent. If you’re not here for the poetry, feel free to skip these posts. I won’t be offended. ;) If you are here for the poetry, I’d love to hear what resonates with you and what doesn’t.

How are you leaning into this season?

---

Dark waters swirl
in my cup
and I am held
in the warm shelter
of cupped hands
around all that seems
dark and bitter
this morning.

---

Dark waters whisper 
pouring from the kettle
gratitude spills over
flooding the banks
carving out a new path
for days to come.

---

Light, reflected,
in the deep darkness 
of waters, frozen
like my eyes
as I stare,
wondering how much life
is beneath the surface,
buried in mud
like the turtles,
waiting for the dawn
of something new.

---

This morning I sat 
between seasons
wrapped in fall's 
crumpled chiffon
on the frozen banks
of winter's edge
and waited 
for the dawn.

The moon pointed
a silver-white finger
across the glassy sea
and beckoned
with a whisper,
"Come, come
and sit with me."

We sat there
in the darkness
in the quiet
still of night
and waited there
in silence
for the breaking
of the light. 

It didn't come
with hallelujahs
and angels 
filling up the sky;
Dawn came
with rosy cheeks
and bid 
the darkness die.

And die it did,
but slowly,
fading back
from black 
to gray
where I sit
between the seasons
on the brink 
of endless day.

---

His heart beat 
in the darkness
of the womb

 He  broke forth as light 
in the darkness 
of the tomb

Life entered
the dead
that the dead
might live

His heart beat
with ours
that our hearts
might beat with His

And when His heart 
started beating 
in the darkness of the tomb

This world became 
for us the darkness 
of a womb.

---

How is it that snow floats
down like ash from a world
on fire, where the infant 
holy lies in a bed of rubble
and yet still wraps the world
in this soft blanket of peace?

---

The breath I breathe
is not my own --
I am but steward 
of what God
has breathed in me.

With this breath
I am offered life
and I offer it.

Breathe on me,
Breath of God,
that all my days
might belong 
to you. With each
breath breathe 
the world anew
in me.