I am writing you from the other side of darkness. You, like I, will have wakened to the shortest day and turned over, wanting the light to lengthen. But for darkness, we would not appreciate sunlight with the same enthusiasm.
Each time a prisoner is released, each door that welcomes a homeless person, each time a crying child is held close, darkness fades.
We all at times are prisoners of gloom or pain; lost in darkness, screaming to be held until anguish subsides. Suffering rarely lasts. Like a tendril pushes through dark clay to reach sunlight, the natural flow of life is towards wholeness.
When I awoke this morning I lay with closed eyes, imagining blood circulating, my breath moving in tune with my heart. I smiled in the comfort of my husband’s arms.
I, like you, am a living, breathing paradox, embodying both winter and summer solstices of the heart. We need each to appreciate its opposite.
Opposites fit hand in hand;
dark’s not banished contraband,
but ground for seeds to sow.
If screams hurtle from the dark
do not stop their anguished bark,
just doubt the doubt
and faith will sprout.