Winter Solstice

[qos]

I come home to dark, cold rooms.

My child is miles away, her light illuminating another household for a time.
My husband is. . . away.
His brother, the priest, with whom I share thigh friendship, is about his own business.
I am alone, a feeling so familiar as to be almost a comfort.
Almost.

I store the food, take out the chill, sharp alcohol -- ice cold as the night itself -- take a sip. The ice blooms warm in my gut, and begins to smooth the spiky edges of my mood.

I coax the flames up in the hearth, blessing -- always blessing -- the Spirit of Fire.

An old invocation runs through my mind: In darkness, in cold, in the midst of winter, where nothing walks the earth but death and fear, let the brave rejoice, I call the light. I think of the light that shines in the darkness and the darkness shall not overcome it. I think of a gift of starlight in a crystal vial, to light the way when all other lights go out. I think of the lios alfar -- most hated by the Dark, for their name means light.

It would be easy to think otherwise, but the fact is this: the absence of those whose names, whose spirits, are a silent prayer on my lips and in my soul, is not because they do not love me. They are absent because life is complex, and we live in a web of relationships, and I am strong enough to not insist that I consntantly be the center of another's pattern.

I am here.
Mother. Wisdom. Priestess. Queen.
The light is here, here with me in the midst of the darkness.

Once the house is warm, I will bathe, and then I will retire to my chamber -- and when the time comes into its fullness, I will no longer be alone.

Flint and steel, we will strike the spark, conceive the new year, and give birth to the sun.

Comments

[coen.livejournal.com]

It must be hard to be alone at a time like this.

For whatever it is worth, I'll think about you.

[labelleizzy.livejournal.com]

somehow I missed reading this before.

it is beautiful.