Somewhere a Light
There is
always light,
somewhere.
Darkness
is always
encompassed
by light.
After all,
you wouldn’t
even know
what darkness
was,
if light
did not
circumscribe
its ragged
edge.
Somewhere
now,
even in
the darkest
night,
fire burns,
light is
kindled,
candles
are lit,
and minds
and hearts
are illumined
by grace,
making lives
glitter,
like gilded letters
animating
the text
of everyday
life
in our
always
flickered passing
towards
the ever after
page
of peace.
Stair Flights
Lately, I have been thinking
of the sheer ridiculous
goodness of stairs.
Does that seem strange?
But, consider a moment
the generous way in which
they hold our weight
and allow a slow motion flight
up or down.
How, over centuries,
we have come to know
the perfect height
and depth each step should be
for no fall or slip to take place,
but by our own distracted error.
How they connect places and planes
of different existence and different times.
How they allow passage.
How they are often our best image
of birth, and death, and daily
beckon restwards.
How they were places of play
and places of peace,
making themselves into seats
and even slides,
when wanted.
I think of tiny spiral ones, tightly wound
in turrets and towers,
and the grand staircases of ancient houses,
to say nothing of the ones haunted
by memories, and perhaps by
more than memory,
and I am amazed again
at the casual way we climb,
so often not noticing
the holding of our body
the leaning of each step towards us
the blessing of bannisters
the etiquette of ascension,
the sacramentality of stairs.
Don’t even get me started
on doors.
