Poignant, this Pause

In error’s midst
he comes.
In winter’s mist
he comes. He comes
bearing humility,
birthing service. Patient
waiting becomes him whom
the heavens hold forth for one
such as you, for one such as
I. We too wait. We await
this coming,
this tulip bulb,
this winter wheat,
this pregnant idea.
Poignant, this pause.

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8 thoughts on “Poignant, this Pause

  1. shoreacres says:

    The bulb imagery is terrific. I used an abstract painting of a half-buried bulb for an Advent post a couple of years ago. All of these reminders of the importance of waiting, lying fallow, allowing events to unfold in their own time, are so necessary.

    Actually, the poem itself is nearly perfect. I think it’s my favorite of your writings. Just lovely. Time’s moving too fast. I’m not ready for Advent to be over.

    • agjorgenson says:

      Thanks for your comments. I’m glad to hear that you made use of the bulb imagery. I don’t think I’ve seen it used before, which is a bit odd. it would seem an especially apt metaphor for our parts. I’m also not quite ready for Advent to be over. My clergy colleagues always pine for more Lent, but I’m move of an Advent guy. I adore Advent hymns, and the season speaks more to my spirituality, I think.

  2. I’m very fond of the image you use here, of winter wheat. There’s something about what lies dormant that is brought to life by light and warmth, where the shadow and cold are not bad, but part of life. Thank-you, Allen.

    • agjorgenson says:

      Agreed. Anything we can do enable people to make some sense of their darkness seems a step in the right direction even if it is simply to helpi people to let go of the need to make sense of their darkness.

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