Call to Adventuring

A poem for Advent

by Abigail Hastings

We gather here by lambent light
            in from the cool and rain — rain on rain on rain….
            here to collect what light we can, shining in the darkness
                        — brave us —

but this is not the bleak midwinter — it is the barely winter
                        baby winter, just crawling to full height winter

To say the days will grow longer, the nights shorter
            sounds like a great cosmic joke
                        a weatherman without a window

The light of day seems fleeting
            work days start and end by lamplight.

And in this world of pinprick stars
            where most light comes from phones and screens

We are asked to consider the birth of a child
            and the possibility of illumination
                        of a different kind

One that carries us through
            what might actually prove to be (heaven forbid)                      
                        a bleak midwinter

One that might give us something like hope
            for a different day dawning

For what if the child born unto us
            came to remind us that we too are anointed
                        if not with frankincense and myrrh

At least with the gold of wisdom and courage
            so that we can — in spite of the darkness —
                         let our little lights shine.

©Abigail Hastings @