Poem: Winter Solstice

Under the ice there is a dream.

Winter Solstice

Under the ice there is a dream.

Hold the candle to the shadow

and see how you can’t have one

without the other. Winter is magic

in decay, look what changes,

on the threshold of the year. Oh holy,

hinge. Step across the hearth

(earth and heart as one).

The sun sets early,

and then earlier, A waning

light toward spark. Solstice

is the still sun. And when I am still

I can hear the ancestors. I stand

under the sky, breath so cold

it crafts a map, magic is real

and it always was. And I remember.

Join Robin Rose and me for a Winter Solstice Ritual Celebration: Waning Sun & Waning Moon on Thursday, December 18th at 7:00 pm via Zoom (Recording available). Learn more here.