Ad­vent: Wait­ing for a Par­tic­u­lar Dawn

Pasatiempo - - Poetry - by Linda Gray

Now as dark­ness deepens over earth and heart I light my can­dles

and wait for a par­tic­u­lar dawn. Pre­pared as a child to hope— “Maybe this year”— I feel cer­tain, al­most, that

what I long for will come at last. Not the spot­ted pony. Not the deluxe chem­istry set from the Sears cat­a­log. Not a frosted ginger­bread house or chocolate Yule log from Swiss Colony. But some­thing more

dif­fi­cult to name. Some­thing like turn­ing a cor­ner

and see­ing what I’ve never seen be­fore. Or wak­ing from a dream

and know­ing what I’ve never known be­fore. Some­thing like walk­ing through a gate

and feel­ing that I’ve come home. Or be­ing asked the right ques­tion

and find­ing an­other piece to the puz­zle. The dark­ness deepens. My can­dles burn. I hope I wait for a par­tic­u­lar dawn.

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