for Babette
Out the window, a moonless dark.
Sometimes inside, it is moonless, too.
Then we come to realize
how we rely on things
outside of ourselves to see.
This morning, sitting in the dark
with my eyes closed, I wondered
about the turning year,
and two words came to me.
More love. More love.
Curious now I did not think to ask how.
The words seemed both mantra and map,
both question and answer,
all-encompassing as the dark.
Do you remember that day
we tore out of our clothes
and slipped into the frigid lake
in northern Wisconsin?
How we laughed as we swam
deeper and deeper in.
How dark the water,
how it dripped light from our arms
as we raised them to pull
through the surface.
I am again swimming in the dark.
Sometimes I feel the cold
is too much for me.
It helps now to remember
that it’s possible to find laughter
in cold waters. More love. More love.
Just yesterday, I was thinking
of the way Jesus turned water to wine.
It is no use to ask how.
The invitation is to accept the miracle,
praise the change and drink.
Perhaps in these moonless times,
this is when we learn to make light
out of dark, the way two stones
make a spark. Now, perhaps,
is not the time to ask who we are,
but what we can do.
Now is the time for miracles.
More love. More love.
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