Advent, a Poem by Marjorie Lorenz

On this first day of Advent, a time of waiting for the metaphoric arrival of the Christ child on Christmas morning as well as his literal second coming, and a time that privileges taking time amidst decaying light, stressful family interactions, and relentless nostalgia (not to mention those interminable Christmas songs EVERYWHERE!), I am comforted and supported by the poetry of my dear friend, the late Marjorie Lorenz, whose poem by this title captures so much beauty and depth, and gives us the priceless gift of knowing that our true vocation is waiting.

Advent

Take:
One Advent—
in its shorter darker days
merchant’s glitter
obliterates
the subtle tones
eyes find in fasting.
Who would guess
that darkness could extend
a healing hand?

Only the instant
receives our homage.
Seconds shower like sparks
shaved away
from the whirling wheel,
brilliant and gone;
our rush unhushed
as if we wished
to split time
like the atom.
Who knows that our true
vocation

is

waiting?

The hardest of all the arts.

--Marjorie Lorenz