The Consolations of Writing

Christmas Candle: Christmas is Light

The day comes and goes: families meet; food’s eaten;
As tradition has it, rain comes at night.
What then? Police patrol the festive season;
Roads are blocked in case the Christmas sprite
Has rendered some of us unsafe to drive.
So wait. The moment passes, and too soon
The chance will leave as quick as it arrived.
Within the scheduled week there still is room,
Yet hearts congeal and work expands like gas
When holidays are done. No holy days?
Each moment hides deep grace; and though it pass
The pregnant hope of things will have its way.
Open eyes to see the swelling joy
Of light and life amidst our vacant noise.

Too Much Light 6: Prepare Your Crowns

Come,

let us

walk

in the light

of the

Lord:

the light is blinding and

the days are long; the sun

confuses us, the bustle deafens.

Lord:

let us walk.

Let’s leave our cars, our homes, our days

and walk.

The Son has stories brighter than noon,

pavilions for the rising of the brightest morning,

and ways that feet must slow to learn.

But come.

Prepare your crowns, prepare

your heads to bow before

His crown.

Prepare the day, to slow, to greet

this child,

bright as Day.

Fourth Candle: Advent is Trusting

See clockwise how the candle-steps arise,
New wick ablaze as old wicks stand beside.
Some rise in hope with freshness in their eyes,
Some simply stand; His Nonetheless abides
In hearts that quicken, hearts of smouldering wick.
Though Zion is not tall, though nations scoff,
The small, the humble, now are tall. Come quick!
The way’s made plain, though faint, though still far off.
Come, come: let’s walk. His house beckons us in,
And joyful songs may fill our hearts today.
The hope is sure, though hope sometimes burns dim;
A beacon star still flicks to show the way.
Advent arises; knees unbend to find
This God-with-us, this brother of mankind.

Too Much Light 5: Prepare Your Knees

The climb –
up hills, up bridges, up avenues –
may smart on feeble knees,
yet walk.
This is not a path for driving.
There are no lanes free and your mind
will not process the path from inside a car.
Static and traffic-bound, you
will not see the guiding star
and will not feel
the weakness of your knees which speaks
much more of need than traffic knows.
So walk:
the road is long yet rises to meet you
as you greet the Son…

Third Candle: Advent is Rising

Rejoice. The third candle, pink and fresh with life,
Alights and sparkles while the hope grows long.
Rejoice: Advent is rising; though the strife
Of ways unprepared may hurt our knees, the strong
Will hold the weak and walk. Advent is stretching
The stiff joints of silence. Advent is latent
Yet stirring with noise; Advent is listening
For the cue to rise and walk, to repent
And follow the king. Advent’s a twitch, an impulse,
A call to attention, a horn lifted,
A pounding, a surging, a raising of pulse,
An in-gathering of lost and of sifted.
Advent is beckoning and growing with sound;
Advent rejoices in humming around.

Second Candle: Advent is Slowing

One candle grows short, a second descends,
And three others wait for the rising of light.
Wicks burn down and dwindle, yet hope still appends
The longing of prayers in the slow Advent night.
In the day, though the shouting of sun may shut out
The lamenting of captives, yet watch in the night,
For Advent is slowing: our rushing, our doubt,
Our “everything-must-be-done-by-this-time”.
Yes, Advent is dwindling – right down to the quick –
And Advent is hoping, and looking, though sight
Is obscured, and deferred hope makes the heart sick.
Advent is finding new candles to light:
When the length of the waiting diminishes cheer,
The light still will flicker, to shut out all fear.

Too Much Light 4: Prepare Your Feet

   No room,
and yet there is room:
in shoulders, between lanes,
by roadsides, in industrial paddocks.
No room, perhaps, for cars, yet feet
have space to move, if you,
traffic-sore, should rise
          and step
into the space where lavender
shifts in wind, gnarled
      tree trunks climb
   to upward     possibility.
He comes
     on desert paths; He plants
His footsteps in the raging sea.
As inlets, channels, block up here,
       prepare your feet,
    prepare your way,
          prepare to come    and see.

Note: Most of this poem was written on a chewing gum packet while stuck in traffic. Chewing gum packet attached to post.

Too Much Light 3: Prepare your ears


Slow down.
Road, rain, traffic slow you down
but you are fast.
Your heart pounds to silence the road, and buds
turned inward block out growth.
What speaks is asphalt
and the music in your ears, the hum
of engines idling, the unexpected pause.

Yet sky
is telling another story: look, the clouds
gather round the sun to make it plain.
And other hearts pound beside you,
some with windows wound down, and some
wound up
with the delayed expectation of day…

Change lanes;
there is movement in another place, and blinking
lights declare the way is near.
Listen: truth today sings in silent stasis
and beckons you to hear.

First Candle: Advent is Waiting

Advent is not simply Christmas extended:

Calendar flaps decked with chocolate each day;
Shops tinsel-lined as though God intended
The season to dazzle our wallets away.
Advent is not for the first-fruits of commerce,
Nor is it for month-long pre-parties and drinks,
And not for fluoro-lit reindeers dispersed
In gardens, despite what the suburbs may think.
No, Advent is waiting: for succour, for light.
Advent is silence, four centuries’ thirst
And prophecies ringing on into the night.
Christmas appeases, but mourning comes first:
Emmanuel promised, but light not yet here;
Our night-time rejoicing, till dawn shall appear.

Too Much Light 2: Prepare Your Eyes


Highways have no beauty in heat of summer:
the road flattens and grass lies thirsty by the way.
Nothing to see (the asphalt carpet rolls through nowhere fast),
we dream of nothing but our pedestrian destinations.

Should someone tell the day that new light might dawn
across a languid, surprised hill, it would chuckle.
And so the road stays nonchalant, all drivers casting off the glare 
of sun that blinds from sun, and day
which blinds from truest Day.