Creative Writing

A Winter Solstice

It’s that time of the year again.
And it’s no different from the past.
Carols fill the silence of a cold dreary evening,
and heaters warm our frosted fingers and toes.

Time goes by so slowly
as we patiently watch the snowflakes
that fall on the edges of the window sill,
and relish the peace and stillness of the night.

Oh what bliss! 
To have bellies stuffed with hearty meals,
bodies wrapped snuggly in blankets,
and hearts filled with joy and gladness.

But somewhere out there,
the same cannot be said
for the grieving and the suffering,
the weary and the afflicted.

It’s that time of the year again.
And it’s no different from the past.
No carols to fill the silence, just cries echoed by the heart.
No heaters to bring warmth, just candles to light the grave.

Time goes by so slowly
as they patiently wait for the sound of each drop
that could shatter their windows into pieces,
and rob the night of its peace and stillness.

Oh what misery! 
To have bellies begging to be fed,
bodies covered in bloodstained clothes,
and hearts filled with sorrow and grief.

So may we remember them today
and keep them in our prayers.
Let them know that they are not forgotten,
nor are they alone in the cold and dark.

For we are all under the same blanket of stars
on the same winter night.
The same finite beings with a beginning and an end,
where none can escape the snare of death.

Though the day is short and the night is long,
darkness is only momentary.
And those who long for the return of the Light,
will surely not despair.

No matter how long the dark hours persist, 
there is an ever-present hope for those who trust,
not on the perishable things of this world,
but on the Light that is to come.

- Anonymous