There is a space in the innermost sanctum of heart-mind where hope lives and joy frames the doorway to a world where dandelions and dragonflies dance.
There is a space in the innermost sanctum of heart-mind where dread dwells and draws shadows down disguising all exits.
We seek patterns, meaning, sense, to dark dawns and thirst for sudden joy.
But mind is like a railway track switching destinations relentlessly: In a blink, we arrive in dread, or hope, or a far-off place where lonely poets hide;
a no-where vista set for watching mind-trains.
It is in this hour of hate and hope and viral fear,
It is in this moment of time, with brilliant rainbow blazes of hope and dark depths of crawling chaos,
It is in this second of sunlight’s wane and midnight mania,
That journey is sensed.
That meaning may live in small milliseconds of movement toward hard love.
That mind may be secondary to the journey of soul, moving with quiet caterpillar feet in tiny undulations and circular wandering with elastic pre-memory of cocoons and wings; caves and stars.
A small river rises in the East, a surging Baptism,
and the West wonders at stars and signs and a virgin birth.
The Christ-Child delivered by, in, from Love moves in a soul-journey so unwise to us who weigh all things by gain and direction.
For this journey is small and circular with elastic pre-memory of angels and glory.
This journey is neonate and fragile, yet robustly rich in the persistence of Life.
This journey is barn-common, yet singular, unique as a snowflake or the footprint of an imploding star.
Grace is born to us;
Gift and Glory in a tiny journey of eternal proportions. '
Greetings in this Holy Season from Fox Song Farm
Faith Richardson, Christmas 2020
