Blessing for the Longest Night by Jan Richardson

All throughout these months
as the shadows
have lengthened,
this blessing has been
gathering itself,
making ready,
preparing for
this night.

It has practiced
walking in the dark,
traveling with
its eyes closed,
feeling its way
by memory
by touch
by the pull of the moon
even as it wanes.

So believe me
when I tell you
this blessing will
reach you
even if you
have not light enough
to read it;
it will find you
even though you cannot
see it coming.

You will know
the moment of its
arriving
by your release
of the breath
you have held
so long;
a loosening
of the clenching
in your hands,
of the clutch
around your heart;
a thinning
of the darkness
that had drawn itself
around you.

This blessing
does not mean
to take the night away
but it knows
its hidden roads,
knows the resting spots
along the path,
knows what it means
to travel
in the company
of a friend.

So when
this blessing comes,
take its hand.
Get up.
Set out on the road
you cannot see.

This is the night
when you can trust
that any direction
you go,
you will be walking
toward the dawn.

Blessing for the Longest Night

Tonight, this December 21st, will be the longest night of the year, the winter solstice. And Jan Richardson who has written many blessing-poems, seems to have captured the essence of this special time. After so many months of endarkenment, as my friend calls it, the sun and earth in their timeless dance will allow the light to gradually return, a reason to celebrate, even as we let go of this special time of drawing inward.

What is this blessing, this grace she speaks of, that has been gathering itself, that has practiced walking in the dark as we have each walked as the moon has waned? She tells us this blessing will / reach you / even if you / have not enough / light to read it. You will know its arrival by your release / of the breath / you have held / so long, a thinning of the darkness that has seemed endless.

Yet she is quick to point out, this does not mean / to take the night away, but rather to accompany you like a friend as you travel through the dark. She invites us to reach out to take the hand of this blessing, this gift that is offered on this night, for this is the night / when you can trust / that any direction / you go, / you will be walking / toward the dawn. May you move toward the light as it returns, carrying your own light inside.