IN DARK DECEMBER
Ralph Murre
Whatever you believe,
whatever you do not,
there are sacred rites
you must perform
in dark December.
Do this for me:
Pull together
the kitchen table,
the folding table,
and that odd half-oval
usually covered
with bills and broken pencils
and red ink.
Pull together family and friends,
cool cats and stray dogs alike.
Turn off everything
except colored lights,
the roaster,
the toaster, the stove.
Cook. Bake. Eat.
Yes, even the fruitcake.
Eat, crowded around
those assembled tables
with mismatched chairs.
Reach so far
in your sharing
that you hold the sun
in one hand,
the stars in the other,
and no one between is hungry.
Now walk together,
talk together,
be together
on these darkest nights.
Give and forgive.
Light candles and ring bells.
Sing the old songs.
Tell the old stories
one more time,
leaving nothing out,
leaving no one out
in the long night,
leaving nothing wrong
that you can make right.
(My thanks to Ralph Murre, via Callaloo Soup and Rafter Annette Grunseth.)
The Gentle Nudge
Join other Rafters this week for . . .
THURSDAY: Poetry Pick-Me-Up (Zoom, 12:00-1:00PM Central, at this link)
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I really love this poem. Thanks to Annette Grunseth for bringing it to the Poetry Pick Me Up a few Thursdays ago. there is a lot to unpack here and I want to read it again and again.
I am edging towards forgiveness....another nudge from this warm poem... Thank you.