.
A year has clambered past
wrestle-trickling across the barren waiting floor.
I shift like time sand swiftly to and through
a decade of astonishing pause
Held-breath and suffering,
Dry eyes and puddle heart,
wracked flesh, soul on an alter
And we have sacrificed.
But small stubborn seeds pop heavy in time
Ripe with wild, precarious hope
hemmed in safely
Nestled where they grow,
Urging to not just wait well
but to want with conviction.
You uncurl my grip-white fists
so the delicate fingertips will feel
every last drop
the rush of everything as it spills over
Ample measures, long awaited, too much to hold.
Whirling dervishes of color
that pour down the aisles
rushing to light the candle—
in memory of a people longing for your arrival
in reverence for all current languishing
and your faithful cracking open of the darkness each time.
So you gently unearth them
small vials of light
Little moments—liquid, brilliant—moments of Emmanuel
that light the path for when we can’t see the star
.
