Solstice

You have come this far
Worn the broadening heft of night
Tea with sugar in the window-crack sun
That sliver of warm resistance
You heaving loss as a burden
The way night has its substance
Water and not air for your lungs
How, tired, you avoid sweeping dust
From the corners of the kitchen
The way you see age as retreat
The way the moon melts away
City light blinding constellations
You going about your barest chores
And still you know the way
North wind nights are thinning
Remember, away from the dark corners
A few more slivers of sun each day
To live your one life open

Get your copy of my new poetry book, Burning Horses, a collection of 33 poems —>

I wrote this in the early morning on the winter solstice. I’ve been awake terribly early these days, counting days that are more good than bad. I wonder about whether we’ve turned corners from some ugly things. Nothing revolutionary, just little cracks of light here and there if you know where to look. Little traces of hope, woven together, add up to something bigger. I’m as guilty as any being a corporate worker and a phone addict and trying to figure out what to make of AI and the news and our crazy culture. But I have noticed lately people moving toward things real. Supporting local. Appreciating art. Taking time to read. Spend time with loved ones. I’ve said before we long for connection. Maybe we’ve fooled ourselves with all this technology and money for long enough that it’s starting to wear off? Not all at once, just little increments of light. Who knows? What good is poetry if not for hope.

Happy solstice, happy holidays, Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year from one wry, heathen bastard to all of you.

Coda:

you are marvelous
the gods wait to delight
in you.

The Laughing Heart, Charles Bukowski