Twenty-four days to Christmas, twenty until the shortest day. Time to light an internal flame, prepare for Christmas, burn a blend of orange, clove bud and cinnamon oils - and frankensence, unblended - and try to fight the urge to sleep forever due to diminished light and arthritis.
In November, I attended a local poetry event 'Write Out Loud' where we were challenged to write a performance poem on a seasonal theme. This is my effort.
Advent Homily
Mark the days of Advent now the year is drawing in.
Wrap a blanket round your shoulders as the shortening days grow dim.
Take a walk towards the farm house at half-past three
and watch the distant sun set through the branches of the trees.
Pour yourself a drink on reaching home and send a festive message on your mobile phone
to those in your address book now facing life alone.
Read a seasonal story or a verse.
You don't have to share a faith to appreciate
The Journey Of The Magi or Mole's happy carol singers,
or enjoy the old familiar rhymes of In The Bleak Mid-Winter.
Or to learn how loyal Gerda melts the Snow Queen's icy splinters.
Create a festive playlist with your favourite Christmas tunes.
Bake a batch of mince pies on a Saturday afternoon.
Burn a candle on the Solstice to mark the longest night
after which the Earth will journey back towards the light.
On Christmas eve, when Advent ends
be glad if you're at home with friends,
while others face uncertainty
on a scale hard to conceive
on which it's estimated there's 43.4 million refugees.
Resolve to make a sound donation or attend a demonstration or write to your MP.
And when on Christmas Day you toast
to peace with woman and with man,
know you have the power to make
a difference where you can.
Joan Bailey
