How the Light Comes (A Blessing for Christmas Day) by Jan Richardson

 

I cannot tell you

how the light comes.

 

What I know

is that it is more ancient

than imagining.

 

That it travels

across an astounding expanse

to reach us.

 

That it loves

searching out

what is hidden

what is lost

what is forgotten

or in peril

or in pain.

 

That it has a fondness

for the body

for finding its way

toward flesh

for tracing the edges

of form

for shining forth

through the eye,

the hand,

the heart.

 

I cannot tell you

how the light comes,

but that it does.

That it will.

That it works its way

into the deepest dark

that enfolds you,

though it may seem

long ages in coming

or arrive in a shape

you did not foresee.

 

And so

may we this day

turn ourselves toward it.

May we lift our faces

to let it find us.

May we bend our bodies

to follow the arc it makes.

May we open

and open more

and open still

 

to the blessed light

that comes.