E Y E W E A R, THE BLOG - FREEDOM MEANS BEING UNAFRAID TO WRITE WHAT YOU THINK

For the Lady       This old December, let ice shingle in the eaves, let frost sparkle on the ground, sprinkle diamonds in the fields. Let skies in the dark wink with stars. For the Lady. Let winter earth break open, heavy clay fall away, rock, crust, and mantle, crack: bud forth an Infant. Let flinty silence sing. For the Maiden. See, she’s kneeling by a Child, folds her cloak around Him, her immaculate breath mingles, in the midnight warm-straw air, with the Bairn’s. Her bright Sun. Clamber near the Crib, jostle shepherds in the night; tiptoe round the lolling oxen; bring a candle to the Light. Maybe He will smile. For the Lady. poem by Geraldine Clarkson