What do we do on the longest night?
We weep. We stand at the mouth
of a snowy canyon, cursing God
through our sobs as the long dark
of this year, so cold, sinks deep.
Then, we hold each other, laugh.
We kiss and whisper secrets, gently
caressing the tender hurts in the dark
beneath each others’ skin.
We sleep the sorrow of midwinter,
dream spring and wake
with wet eyes that watch
the light grow longer each day,
each new minute the promise
of a bright-shining, knife-bladed spring.
by Heather Holland