A reflection on the long-awaited light that follows the darkest days.
By Prasanta Verma
Solstice darkness persists longer
than the sun’s extended rays, which reach
my fingertips eight minutes later
than when they first sizzled
out of their thermogenic home.
Electromagnetic radiation warms
cool blue earth, invisibly
touches my skin.
In the chill of Cimmerian nights,
tender light pierces
the crepuscular hour.
Underneath December’s star,
silence stirs the night,
souls transgress, progress.
Recollect perpetual anticipation,
the deep agony of waiting in darkness
with hope of morning light.
Heat of a long-awaited star touches,
ignites long-awaited desire,
my spirit a smoldering wick,
spangling streaks in caliginous expanse.
Witness the world’s pain cauterized
by a birth, humanity’s death incinerated
by a small heavenly body
gifted to creation.
Photo by Raphael Schaller on Unsplash
Prasanta Verma is a writer and poet. She was born under an Asian sun, raised in the Appalachian foothills in the south, and currently resides in the upper Midwest. She holds an MBA and MPH, volunteers as a high school debate coach, and has been published in Relief Journal, Barren Magazine, Tweetspeak Poetry, (in)courage, The Perennial Gen, The Contemplative Writer, and more. You can connect with her on Twitter @VermaPrasanta, Instagram @prasanta_v_writer and her website prasantaverma.com.