Advent

 I am restored in this darkest season;
the agent of night who tiptoes bootless
down the aisle of the sanctuary of defeat.
The stars are becoming a luminous choir
singing a song so sweet and sincere
that even God listens . . .

and where the  sun forgets
that morning will ever shine again.

 I pace the cave of this longing
and let my hands follow the stone walls,
cold and slick with my grief.

The deliverance
of tomorrow,
the knowing
that there is so much more music
to return my heart
to the sound of love
and forgiveness;

this is the grace I pray for
as I light a single candle
and breathe in peace;
let my voice ring a single clear bell
of radiant hope.