Wednesday, March 8, 2017

#SOL17: Out of Darkness

Winter Solstice (M.A. Reilly, 12.21.10, 3:05 a.m._

The Coming of Light 
Even this late it happens:
the coming of love, the coming of light.
You wake and the candles are lit as if by themselves,
stars gather, dreams pour into your pillows,
sending up warm bouquets of air.
Even this late the bones of the body shine
and tomorrow’s dust flares into breath.
                - Mark Strand 


I had planned to stay up to shoot the lunar eclipse. What I did not know was that my husband had planned to join me. I thought he had gone off to bed. He had not and as we stood outside at 2:30 a.m. in the freezing cold of late December--we each felt so very much alive.  

This is mostly how we lived.


Closer to 3 a.m. we agreed that Devon, who at the time was ten-years-old, should see the eclipse too, witness the Blood Moon. A total lunar eclipse on the Winter solstice. I waited outside with the tripod and my camera as the darkness continued to gather. Rob went inside to rouse Devon. A few minutes later they both came outside bundled up. Devon drowsy and leaning his slight body into his father's.

We stood there in wonder. None of us talking as the moon turned red.


The next day, I showed both of them the image I made from that night. 

What caused it to be red? Devon asked. 

And Rob, equally as comfortable as scientist as he was poet, launched into an explanation about the Earth's atmosphere and scattered light.


In the year following Rob's death, what I have mostly learned, 
          mostly remembered 
          from living with this man, 
                      making a family with him 
         is that it is 
         so often 
         about the coming of light. 


We created love together out of darkness. 


  1. We created love together out of darkness.
    I write my slice and then read yours :)

  2. As I read this, I cannot help but think of your son and what you and Rob taught him about love and being awake to the wonders of the world.

  3. Beautiful thought and poem, Mary Ann. Your piece is full of hope and the remembrance of a great love.

  4. Mark Strand shows hope in his poem, and you bring your own light now with your son by writing the memories: "the coming of love, the coming of light" will stay with you. Making those times together is the glory of life well-lived. I loved reading this, Mary Ann.

  5. I love the way you take the past and weave it into the present so that death's shadow turns into a glimmer of light. I thought about "Ceremony" by Leslie Marmon Silko as I read this.

  6. Yes, that is what we do with those we love....Create light and LIFE out of darkness, Your poem is filled with emotions and the hope, sadness, love, and potential for peace you certainly know.


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