Advent: Week One

place the dark in a bottle
do not heed it's sound
throw it on the waves
and watch it bob around
so quick we run to plated barrows
our armour all ablaze
to wait for you to raise immortal
all our battered days

We're being stretched
as we live in the Between
the time between the times
the waiting for the coming.
You'd think we would become
thinner, less than before.
Rather we become thicker,
like a harvest that grows
by the reaping

Swirling leaves in a mist-curled morning
Icy breath crusting the bench in the park
The festive season is cold in dawning
And Advent always begins in the dark
We drown our woes with lights brightly shining
Hide Time’s reaping hunger with mulled cheer
Shout that we’re selfless; our lies refining
Our cries for rescue hid under veneer
Long years we have waited for gifted life
A fullness of seasons has passed us by
Will these be the days of relief from strife?
“Oh, come quickly Lord” with one voice we sigh
Old words oft spoke with Geneva recite
A birthing of hope; after darkness, light

The hearthfire sputters
as my heartfire splutters
in indignation at what was
raging flame
    gasps a breath
                and exhales
                                   smoke
And dying embers reflect
mirrored truths, now burned bare
that where we are is not as bald
as would be if our dreams
old seams fraying
laid upon the bed
                 as mourning garb
if hard words were said
and they finally came true