#6 decembrance

There comes an evening in December when I leave the studio and there is no light on in the house. And so I have to face the dark. It’s not late. I don’t need a watch to tell me that, or a friend. These days I have a phone which can double as a flashlight, but I try to pause, to feel the dark, the habits of my steps on the driveway, my routine direction through the leaves. It’s a simple moment that I tend to cringe at, but if I remember to drop my shoulders and zip up my coat I can trust my foot will find the path.

 To Face the Dark

To face the dark,
one does not need a light.
Nor does one need a watch,
a feather, a melody, a sword, a pen.
One doesn’t even need a friend.
To face the dark,
one needs only to face the dark.
There is something easier then
about the facing, when we know
we need no preparation.
Nothing is asked of us except
the willingness to face the dark,
the willingness to pause
in that moment when we
cannot see, cannot know,
cannot float on the sea of habit,
cannot fly on the feathers of routine.
But already, I’ve taken this too far.
It’s so simple, the invitation,
that it’s easy to miss what is asked.
Not a journey. Not even a step.
Just the chance to face the dark,
to meet yourself in that facing—
and to notice what being erased
and what’s doing the erasing.

–Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer, poem/video