Let There Be Light [An Advent Poem]

The world is dark,

and darker still it grows.

The highs seem more like hiccups, while the lows

are chronic, caustic,

catastrophic.

"Why this?" I ask.

I do not know,

and nobody

can answer.

The ache is sharp,

and sharper still it bites.

The pain stalks the weary like wolves

with dreadful eyes and teeth that tear

but do not kill.

"How long?" we beg.

We cannot bear

such agony

much longer.

The cold is cruel

and crueler still it chills.

The hands grow cold; the blood forgets its circuits.

Though the heart pumps,

it barely stirs the breast.

"Please don't," I sigh,

addressing grief and joy alike.

I wish they would

stay numb

forever.

But light––oh, light––is beautiful.

It softens, soothes––

it shines in the deep dark,

and darkness cannot put it out.

"Let there be light," He says. "I am

the light. Whoever believes in me

will not remain

in darkness,

but will have

the light of life."

He steps

into our dark, cold, painful world

that we might not only

see

a great light

but ourselves be a great light,

fighting back the night

until it is no more.