Approaching the Winter Solstice this year feels a lot like turning on the news…with this exception: history tells me that the northern hemisphere WILL, despite appearances,  soon begin gifting us with more light. But history makes no such promises when it comes to politics, poverty, or the poverty of politics. (And of course history is completely gobsmacked when it comes to climate chaos.)

So I went looking through the Interwebs for a Solstice poem to make myself feel better. Some light to look forward to, even as we declare “the first day of winter” and shiver on the sidewalk, or at the headlines.

Winter is beautiful. Winter is beautiful. Winter is beautiful…

I found several–some cheesy, some classical, some downright weird. (But write on, ye weird poets!) None said exactly what I was looking for. Then I checked my email inbox and found a jewel, from, of all places, our beloved local wine bar/deli, Vita’s Wildly Delicious. Well of course, the Vita’s newsletter! Who else but proprietor/chef/wine guy Bruce Botts to put his quirky finger on exactly what I needed?

Vita’s in a sunnier season. (Sorry, not sure whom to credit photo to–it’s from their Facebook page.)

Here’s the poem, by Raphael Kosek (who is, despite the name, a woman–here’s her website)

Young Man Lighting Up
The young man paused
       just long enough
to cup his hand lovingly
   around the cigarette
lighting it before stepping out
into the clench of four-lane traffic
   weaving his way
among us as I watched him
   slim and confident, bent
on reaching the store across
the street, careless with the surety
of youth, and I can only assume
   he reached his destination
as I didn’t hear the screech of brakes
or bray of horns as the light
   turned.
       The following
day I recalled him
   with longing,
       something connate,
and he grew
   in significance because
it was so insignificant—precisely why
I kept seeing him
   doing what we all do
       cupping our hands
around the thin flame of something

   we nurture for good or ill
as we step into the world’s
   thrash—confident, fully believing
      we will reach
the other side.

 

YES.  Yes please. Can we hear that again? “…cupping our hands around the thin flame of something we nurture for good or ill as we step into the world’s thrash–confident, fully believing we will reach the other side.”

Beautiful. Beautiful. Beautiful…

Thank you, Bruce, for passing on that thin flame. And to anyone reading this: may you find your own version of this poem when you feel the darkness deepen.

Happy Winter Solstice! Bring on the light!