Advent
It is a familiar place,
all this darkness, where we hide out in bomb shelter constructs meant to protect, that now imprison us with safety. Wrapped against the cold in dark chocolate velvet, we console ourselves in empty isolation brooding over our existential situation in acedic despair. So here we sit, isolated individuals waiting, listening in possible hope for imperturbable sounds rustling in the distance of approaching rescue until candles defiantly stabbing the night in vigil reveal that deliverance already among us in plain-chanted longing that breaks silence as together we breathe hope and feast on promised Word. © 2006 Tess Lockhart. All rights reserved. |