Here in the northern hemisphere today is the winter solstice, the first day of winter, aka midwinter. It is reportedly the shortest day of the year hence the longest night.
It is also that time of year I routinely share this bit of poetry with you all.
Well it is, once again, that time of year when I drag out this old prose and start making the dressing.
A Pilgrims Prayer
Okay, I didn’t really know any of the original Pilgrims but I did see a few John Wayne movies. John knew a pilgrim when he saw one. He seemed to know a lot of pilgrims.
But allow me to propose that we are all pilgrims, each one of us on a journey of sorts; we are all looking for something. Be it a quest for self-confirmation, for truth, a cure, enrichment, comfort, a friend, a lover, a job, a meal or a place to lay our weary head at the end of another day.
Life is a journey, or at least it should be. I’d hate to think any of us were just flailing through the experience killing time on this giant floating gumball.
We all have one destination though we may travel many roads in getting there.
Hopefully we will choose well.
When we do take a wrong turn [and we will from time to time] I pray that we have enough sense and humility to stop and ask for directions; the sense to know good from evil and who to trust and I pray we have the courage to admit we took a wrong turn and learn from it.
So here’s wishing all of you pilgrims a Happy Thanksgiving and may we all, whatever road we’re on, take the time to look ahead, pause and bow our head in thanks.
My personal prayer: Thank you Father, The Creator of all things, for this day and all it holds. Thank you for the days past and Father forgive me for my wrong turns. Thank you for the day to come and guide me to make better choices. Thank you for all the persons in my life and the ones who read this prayer. And Thank You Father for the beacon that lights my way. In Jesus name. Amen.
Those of you in the Southern Hemisphere are (hopefully) enjoying summer while us folks in the Northern Hemisphere are entering winter and the longest night of the year.
Though it is the Northern influence that spawned The Long Long Night, I wish you all a happy December solstice and warm poetic evening.
so without further adieu I give to you …
The Long Long Night
He would sculpt and I would write to get us through this thing called life – what seemed to be an aimless plight
The long, long night
I used pen and he used clay to cope with all the pain filled days which lived within our slow decay of
The long, long night
But in between the words and mud we found the art of making love and pacified the angst and blood of
The long, long night
Forsaken pages ripped and torn, spattered earth across the floor, graphite tales of love and war and
The long, long night
Come into my bed sweet angry lover, your tender calloused hands beneath the cover.
Find the place where none has been, beneath the ink and turning pin, get us through yet once again
I have been doing a lot of reflecting these past couple of weeks. Convalescents affords me that luxury; and let me tell you all of life feels like a luxury- a new lease on life.
If you follow me on TikTok you know I survived being electrocuted late last month. The after effects are a pain and still manifesting. Still, I am sooo grateful to be on the topside of the soil.
Anywho, I thought I would share some of my reflecting with this poem from Getting Me Back.
A little aside: My last visit to the old place was about twenty years ago. It was one of those random stops; my youngest son was in high school and we were on our way home from a dental appointment.
I said, “Hey you wanna see where I lived once as a child?”
Being the adventurous soul that he is he said, “sure!”
So, without further adieu, here you go.
For illustration to feed your imagination only XoXo
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Life behind the railroad tracks
We called home a wooden shack
Lulled to sleep by passing trains
A tattered roof deterred the rains
Chilling winds crept through the walls
Carrying echoes of coyote calls
Two to three in every bed
With coats and quilts to cover our heads
Winter’s cruelty calmed us none
We unfurled early to meet the sun
Neither ice nor snow could hold us back
In hopeless times we crossed that track
Coon hunts and rat kills, boy we had fun
Don’t think it strange, it’s just what we done
June bugs and fireflies, the games that they sparked
The Real Janna Hill in 