Blessing for the Longest Night, by Jan Richardson
All throughout these months
as the shadows have lengthened,
this blessing has been gathering itself
making ready
preparing for this night.
It has practiced walking in the dark
traveling with its eyes closed
feeling its way by memory
by touch, by the pull of the moon
even as it wanes.
So believe me when I tell you
this blessing will reach you
even if you have not light enough to read it;
it will find you even though you cannot see it coming.
You will know the moment of its arriving
by your release of the breath
you have held so long;
a loosening of the clenching
in your hands
of the clutch around your heart;
a thinning of the darkness
that had drawn itself around you.
This blessing does not mean
to take the night away
but it knows its hidden roads,
knows the resting spots along the path,
knows what it means to travel
in the company of a friend.
So when this blessing comes
take its hand.
Get up.
Set out on the road
you cannot see.
This is the night
when you can trust
that any direction you go
you will be walking
toward the dawn.
—Jan Richardson
from The Cure for Sorrow