I was born at this dark time of the year. I was a Samhain baby, born on All Souls Day or the Day of the Dead. For a multitude of reasons – my fair skin burns easily and is prone to heat rash, allergies, biting insects who find me oh so tasty – I do not love the summer. Perversely, now at the darkest time of year I have found myself wakeful at 4am. And I do not think this is necessarily linked to anxiety. This has happened in other years. Maybe because I was born at this time of year my body perks up. The sun is low, the temperatures cool, insects have flown away and pollen is dormant.
So it has been in this past week that I have been awake and writing before 5am on a few occasions. Some call this the amrit vela, those ‘ambrosial hours’ before dawn that seem the natural habitat of prayer, meditation, and creative endeavour. I am well aware what today is in the motherland. So first I prayed – for love to cast out fear. Then I pulled out the notebook and my fountain pen and wrote, after a false start, this:
Love Love makes you brave. Waking up at the darkest hour on this cold November morning I contemplate the ways love made me. The rebukes and cautions made in the hope of keeping me safe. The brush of a lover's lips where bloomed faith. Just as arms shielded me so mine grew strong enough. Love and I could belong. Not completely safe, but secure in faith and the hope and the knowledge dawn always follows the darkest hours. That when love is brave it will never ever betray. Copyright © Bee Smith 2020. All rights reserved.
Featured image Photo by Paigie Page on Unsplash