SILENT NIGHT

The closest I ever got to my inner Goddess was in the process of birthing my two sons. 28 years ago today, after putting Sam to bed, I found myself in labor with the imminent arrival of William who stole in during the dark of the darkest night of the year. Born on the solstice,  I discovered what it meant to give birth to the son of light…and in celebration of my sisterhood with Mary, I wrote this poem.


He wasn't born to the beat
of rock and roll
in an adolescent scream-
or because of a majority vote
in a politicians dream
come true.
He wasn't born
with a press release
in black and white
to illustrate his coming.

He was born
on a still and silent night
from the quiet prayer
of a lone star's light
dancing on the water
like elves upon the fields,
no proofs to prove his coming.
His truth will be revealed
in the quiet passage of time-
in the rhythmic sounds of metered rhyme
that puts harmony
where dissonance has been.

His voice will whisper
 from within…
and I will listen, rapt
by his honeyed light-
trusting in his birth,
his love and life
on a still and silent night.