I wake in the morning to darkness
beyond the clock and shade.
Weary from sleep, knowing the time,
I throw back warm covers,
step onto the cold floor to make my way
into the lingering gloom of the gray day
that remains just the shadow of night.

In this season we will dress up darkness
in bright lights, adorn it in green wreaths
accompanied by songs and bright laughter
until we forget from where we came
where we are going and who we are.

There are those who do not ever forget.
Angels seek our hidden and unspoken souls, 
desirous to gather up all we left behind -
a friend, a failure, a love we did not well love - 
when, afraid, we tried to banish darkness.

I have had my dark days, remembered,
that I cannot take back and make light.
Perhaps I may, as this season's offering,
lay them all upon the table of night
and for them, offer thanks and praise.
___________________________________________
Portland, Oregon - November 8, 2021