Tomorrow will be the shortest day in our northern hemisphere – the winter solstice. It will also be the day when shortly after sunset, if we do not have heavy cloud cover, we should see the Grand Jupiter Saturn Conjunction. Although I have to say that cloud cover can be a fairly constant feature of an Irish December. So we shall see. On Christmas Eve, it is forecast to be dry and clear, so maybe we will glimpse the Bethlehem Star on that night.
Counterintuitively, I tend to wake early, before dawn in the winter months. (And lie abed in summer; go figure!) And when I do wake early, I write in the darkness, though I draw open the curtains to see the slow curling of twilight dissolve into a pinking sunrise around 9am.
I woke early this morning and did not turn over to drowse on. I took out my pen and notebook after reading a quotation of Audre Lorde in a Brain Pickings blog post. It spurred a fairly formal effort, though I know of no name for it – a regular rhyme scheme with a capping couplet. Perhaps it is a longtail sonnet?! It is what it is, I guess. Here is the quotation:
The quality of light by which we scrutinize our lives has direct bearing upon the product which we live, and upon the changes which we hope to bring about through those lives. It is within this light that we form those ideas by which we pursue our magic and make it realised.Audre Lorde
She goes on to speak of poetry, but I stopped there and decided to take up writing a poem.
We Pursue Our Magic We pursue our magic and make it so - shake, rattle the kaleidoscopic light- marvelling at patterns and the colours. Sometimes incantations make the world glow on days of this perpetual twilight, which plunge us, forcing us to discover the content of our character on show (only to our most private self). Less bright, perhaps, than we might like. Even dimmer than this midnight of the heart and soul. Delicate beauty may come to light, nuanced, that peripherally hovers, that uncovers truth by way of shadow, overcoming the blinded, dazzled bright of favoured, mythic, eternal summer. We pursue our magic by our own light. And make it so with all the words we write. Copyright © Bee Smith, 2020. All rights reserved.
This will be a holiday season like none we have known in our lifetime. Collectively, we are pausing in the dark of the year. Stay well, my friends. It may be a lonely time for many, but pause. Read some poetry. Poetry is our magical connection.
There may be another poem on Tuesday. Or, depending on how my baking and other preparations are going, I may post closer to Christmas.
Stay well. Stay connected. Good Yule. The light is returning.