Solstice Poem ~ Margaret Atwood

[bleodswean]

 

This is the solstice, the still point

 

of the sun, its cusp and midnight,

 

the year’s threshold

 

and unlocking, where the past

 

lets go of and becomes the future;

 

the place of caught breath, the door

 

of a vanished house left ajar. 

We grow accustomed to the Dark, by Emily Dickinson

[hhimring]

We grow accustomed to the Dark -
When light is put away -
As when the Neighbor holds the Lamp
To witness her Goodbye -

A Moment - We uncertain step
For newness of the night -
Then - fit our Vision to the Dark -
And meet the Road - erect -

And so of larger - Darknesses -
Those Evenings of the Brain -
When not a Moon disclose a sign -
Or Star - come out - within -

The Bravest - grope a little -
And sometimes hit a Tree
Directly in the Forehead -
But as they learn to see -

Either the Darkness alters -
Or something in the sight
Adjusts itself to Midnight -
And Life steps almost straight.

Emily Dickinson