Last night it rained, Oregon rain,
so hard the chimney sang
and this morning more rain,
more dark, Oregon dark.
There is a cave in Ireland
that birthed Queen Maeve,
the darkest cave in all the land
but not to match our winter.
Big drop rain in the forest,
brown bark soaking down
through the deep soft soil.
Summer trees drink the sun,
hoarding heat in their honey pitch
but in winter the dark’s drunk deep,
absorbed and stored in root and rock,
the dark that spring-light calls
to rise and return the earth to color.

photo by Willard Walch

An invisible weight falls like snow,
thickening on hearts frozen
where their better selves lay slain.
Strength once rested
in a straw-filled manger,
needing no adornment,
and I must ask myself
what is it I bring
to this winter night?
I may be alone
under this burden
but I think not.
Despite the frailty of isolation
I reach out from my solitude
with the whisper of a voice,
a gentle reminder
from our common mother,
we are all related,
in the eyes of our father
children newly born.
Light will follow darkness
yet to travel safely
through this long night
I will carry my share
of the burden
and remember always
we are friends.

Photo by Patrick Orleman

Snow covers the mountains
with ice down to the valley floor.
Rivers run fast but the banks are frozen,
icicles hang from the broken trees.
How deep will cold set into the soft earth?
How pliable will we be under winter’s cover?
The harsh words of troubled hearts
fall like freezing rain
yet in the dim winter light
something more is asked,
questions from the core of the earth
far beneath the ice and snow.
How will you warm us
children of Adam?
What fire can you light
with the spark of eternity?
We are old but we remember.
What gifts will you bring
to this dark solstice?

Memories of the animals fade
with the addiction to more.
The season asks for repentance
but the hymns of division
and adulation of things
defeat going down and in.
I shape a cave
in the rock of my mind,
surround it with silence
and let the water of renewal
gather under black lava.
I chant until my body goes liquid,
all thoughts of vengeance
dissolving under the weight of stone.
No one can hear me
but my grief trembles the mountain,
melting the ice of indifference
as the subtle warmth of faith
seeps into the dark days of winter.