He Thinks of Those Who Have Spoken Evil of His Beloved
~ William Butler Yeats

Half close your eyelids, loosen your hair,
And dream about the great and their pride;
They have spoken against you everywhere,
But weigh this song with the great and their pride;
I made it out of a mouthful of air,
Their children’s children shall say they have lied.

Zinaida Serebriakova: Portrait of Olga Lancere 1910

Prayer for a Friend
~ Clementine Von Radics

This struggle we are struggling isn’t ours alone.
We did not invent loss.
We are not the first to have vows smashed
with a bitter hammer. But god,
You have been battling your pain with bare-knuckle
fists for days and I just wish
I could fight for you.

If I could, I would wrap you up safe.
Make your whole life naps and burritos
and first kisses.
No one should pick on you when you
are so sweet
sugar blushes when you get too close.

In the mess of loss and longing don’t forget
there is a place for you to rest in my ribcage.
This world will cherish you beyond time
I promise.
Love you even when it makes no sense to love you.
This world will force your breath and you
will keep on living.
Sometimes despite yourself.
I will be waiting on the other side to hold you.

Image Credit: Aurora Borealis from Alaska Magazine

This seems a suitable poem to post on Martin Luther King, Jr.’s birthday.

If They Come in the Night
~ Marge Piercy

Long ago on a night of danger and vigil
a friend said, why are you happy?
He explained (we lay together
on a cold hard floor) what prison
meant because he had done
time, and I talked of the death
of friends. Why are you happy
then, he asked, close to
angry.

I said, I like my life. If I
have to give it back, if they
take it from me, let me
not feel I wasted any, let me
not feel I forgot to love anyone
I meant to love, that I forgot
to give what I held in my hands,
that I forgot to do some little
piece of the work that wanted
to come through.

Sun and moonshine, starshine,
the muted light off the waters
of the bay at night, the white
light of the fog stealing in,
the first spears of morning
touching a face
I love. We all lose
everything. We lose
ourselves. We are lost.

Only what we manage to do
lasts, what love sculpts from us;
but what I count, my rubies, my
children, are those moments
wide open when I know clearly
who I am, who you are, what we
do, a marigold, an oakleaf, a meteor,
with all my senses hungry and filled
at once like a pitcher with light.

Image Credit: Sebastian Voortman

Let In The Light
~ John Matthews

Welcome by whatever name or form it comes

Whether you name it he or she

Whether you call it unnameable

Whether it comes with joy or sorrow in hand

Welcome the light in whatever form,

Whether it be the Lord of Life

With stars upon his brow

And treasures in his hands,

Or if the Lady of the World

With all the children at her skirts,

And all the creatures in her train.

Whether you see or do not see

Let in the light.

Let it be part

Of every word,

Of every breath.

Joyfully let in the light

Welcome it in whatever name or form it takes.

Image: Winter Solstice, from Old Farmer’s Almanac.

Ettrick
~Alicia Ann Spottiswoode, Lady John Scott

When we first rade down Ettrick,
Our bridles were ringing, our hearts were dancing,
The waters were singing, the sun was glancing,
An’ blithely our hears rang out thegither,
As we brushed the dew frae the blooming heather,
When we first rade down Ettrick.

When we next rade down Ettrick,
The day was dying, the wild birds calling,
The wind was sighing, the leaves were falling,
An’ silent and weary, but close thegither,
We urged our steeds thro’ the faded heather,
We we next rade down Ettrick.

When I last rade down Ettrick,
The winds were shifting, the storm was waking,
The snow was drifting, my heart was breaking,
For we never again were to ride thegither,
In sun or storm on the mountain heather,
When I last rade down Ettrick.

Ettrick Scotland in Snow. Image from BordersHolidayLets.Co.Uk