[ hold :: this space ]

after this i stop.

maybe we’d break with tradition and have singing… Taize chant ‘in our darkness’ [in our darkness there is no darkness with you oh lord, the deepest night is clear as the day] with this spoken over the top

i live in darkness
and i do not see you here.

do i have no faith?

are you not my god?

should i pray forgiveness for my night?

should i ignore my night and pretend it is day?

before you can save me from night
you will need to save me from those who deny my night.

i live in darkness
and i do not see you here.

i think, if we were doing a solstice space, we’d lay out a length of something black and hard [a long, long piece of sheet metal would be nice - corrugated iron also springs to mind for some reason], with holes cut out of it and light pricking through… sometimes tiny pinpricks of light, sometimes spotlights… two options for what to do with it: first, we’d write stories around them [in some form that could be read] that would tell of moments in our world today where light is coming in the darkness. there’d be long lengths of darkness, though - those places in the world where light is hard to find… we’d get people to write their prayers around that [need to word that carefully...]. the second option is to make it a space around people’s own lives - to reflect on the moments for them where light has come, and to write with black pen in the dark spaces the moments / things that seem surrounded by night… i haven’t thought that through at all… it is, after all, an idea for a space that’s not going to happen… [if only i could get some ideas for the spaces i really do have to make happen in the next couple of weeks!]

in the darkest night
it is not possible to believe
that light will come

because light has come before
doesn’t mean it will again

hold faith tonight
for those who see the darkness
stretch before them

who know no other truth than that

whose barren-ness prevails
who are buffeted by despair
who cannot breathe for fear

join your prayer to god’s
let there be light

it’s the winter solstice on saturday… we talked about doing a space for it. i’m so glad we decided not to, and i really wish we had…

let there be light

it is
as it was
in the beginning

my world is covered
with rocks
and dirt
with wind
and water

i am barren
breathless
lifeless
lightless

all is dark.

they say you commanded
let there be light

but i think you whispered it
into the night
a plea
a prayer

a fragile hope
and longing

let there be light.

whisper again.

let it be once more
as it was
in the beginning

let light come first
then let there be life
let the rumours of goodness
surround me again.

i am barren
breathless
lifeless
lightless.

let it be
as it will be

let there be light.