Sun Stands Still

The advent of solstice

Advent spiral at Aurora Waldorf School in West Falls, NY

Sun Stands Still

In a darkening gymnasium
I stand at the edge of a spiral,
clutching my lumpy apple,
cored to accept a small white candle,
wick empty of flame.

Soon, I’ll walk
between forest-fragrant
pine boughs, dotted with nature’s
artistic wonders: whorled shells, polished stones,
geode crystals, seed cones…
a milky way designed by compassionate hands
to guide me in a circling path.

There’s no stated purpose;
just follow the path to its epicenter
where the wax pillar burns,
light my own candle from it,
then spiral back the way I came,
placing my apple
somewhere along the way.
Simple enough.

I’ve watched others go before me.
Some hoof it, heels echoing with impatience; some
take forever, lingering
at every turn.

Everyone, except the very young,
goes it alone.

When my turn comes
I step forward,
aware of being watched
as I observed others.

But self-consciousness melts with every footfall,
swallowed by magical passage
into a realm of starlit presence,
a sacred gratitude
for the earth’s gifts
and the generosity of apple-candle radiance,
laid down before me
to light my way…

until at last, I curve tightly into
the sun of this system,
and stand still.

Solstice.
The origin of fire,
the hub of love,
the source to which we have all been led,
and are leading each other:

Home.

Eternity passes.
Life’s pulse stops.
I breathe.

Then I tip my wick into fire,
catching its gleaming grace,
and slowly turn
to unwind the ever-bending path,
ready now to lay down
my own humble offering.

But where?
Next to this huddle of candles,
its glow welcomed and amplified?
No. The hovering night
kindles my purpose:

I will place my wavering flame,
the only one I have,
where the deepest darkness still clings,
where shadows hold tight
in tenebrous neglect.

For if my tiny beacon
illuminates one inch of the path
for the next to walk,
as you have lit mine,

then I have done my part
to grow this one coil
ever brighter,
ever more
our Home.

---

Thank you for reading or listening to The Art of Freedom. If you’d like to support my writing, please share it with others:

or subscribe — free or paid, your choice:

or comment:

Looking for a gift for that person who has everything? How about a paid subscription to The Art of Freedom?

As always, but particularly as we navigate the darkest days of the year, keep your own light shining bright.

xox
Mary