The Sacrament of Time
It is a time to keep a reverent pace
with the hymnal steps of the heart.
The days are become processional,
a folding of past raiment’s
strained with the fabric
of isolation, hardship, and loss.
Rituals are more important
as the year declines,
as nights lengthen and settle
into rumor and whispered lore.
Hold high the votive lights of hope,
cherish each child-like winter flowering
warmed in the sanctum of a quiet breath.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2021
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment