Singing to the Night
Gorgeous artwork by Jan Richardson
"Call the piercing a star.
Call it the place the light begins.
Call it the point that tethers us
to this sheltering sky."
Singing to the Night
Who would have thought
the sky could be so pierced,
or that it could pour forth such
light through the breach
whose shape matched
so precisely
the hole in the heart
that had ached
for long ages,
weary from all its emptying?
And what had once been
a wound
opened now
like a door
or a dream,
radiant in its welcome,
singing to the night
that would prove itself
at last
not endless.
Call the piercing a star.
Call it the place the light begins.
Call it the point that tethers us
to this sheltering sky.
Call it the hope
that keeps holding us
to this broken,
blessed earth,
that keeps turning us
toward this world
luminous beneath
its shadows.
Call it the vigil fire
kept in that place
where every last thing
will be mended
and we will see one another
finally whole,
shining like the
noonday sun.