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.