I hold my lantern overhead,
and turning, look back at the past–
such darkness blocks remembrance,
only pinpricks of light in a field of black.

I turn to look ahead.
The light of my lantern
cannot penetrate the fog of future's uncertainty.
I hear muffled voices;
unformed shapes move slowly, heavily.

I set my lantern beside me
and realize with pleasure how sharp and bright it shines
on this space and on this time–
my tree and its Christmas star,
tiny, clear lights of the old Nativity;
today surrounds me, sharp and focused.

What my lantern illuminates–
this place, this moment, this heart, this joy–
is enough.

Text and image © 2013 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.