Skip to main content

WINTER SOLSTICE: A GIFT OF LOVE by Carolyn Riker

I’ve had several days now of alone time…

It is unusual and a gift that I couldn’t see until I breathed it. I have been able to watch the sun’s rise through the grey of dawn and smile at the flickers of frost melting on the waving boughs of evergreen.

It’s unique to follow daylight as it traverses the tempo of a cat’s soft slumbering purr. Night comes swifter and the glow of candles and the flames of fire comfort me more than the steady stream of always-doing-more. As much as I resisted, I needed this break. I had no idea how much my body was trying to tell me slow down until the exhaustion settled in around my joints. My eyes swam in molasses. Heaviness of I-can’t-hold-out-much-long, walked me to the throne of my nest. It’s winter’s gift of self-nurturing and love.


It’s been a quiet proclamation of femininity and a need for comfort foods. Lemon crisps and cranberry, white-chocolate shortbread dipped in tea; I felt a hint of being pampered without guilt. And the words started to flow even while I slept. My dreams became prose. This poem was birthed on a late afternoon when the sun had yet to fully shed its light and the night was already touching the sky in layers of the most exquisite quilted comfort of repose.  

Solstice artwork by Lucy Campbell

Winter Solstice: A Gift of Love
by Carolyn Riker

Maybe, it’s sacred to breathe slower,
walk softer, into the winterish nights
and let it seep into the shortened 
days of ancient grey.

Maybe, it’s hypnotic to
study the fire’s flame
and watch candle lights glow
along an edgeless night’s frame.

Maybe, winterberries accent 
the fields as crimson reminders
of wild saffron centered violets
as they slumber beneath the bitter chill.

And maybe I have taken 
field and form of hibernation 
into my cave, a nest of
cerulean and opaque hues of
blankets and quilts and softest of pillows;
a gathering of tea, the nectar of handhold splendor, 
longing for silent whispers of fresh snow.

Maybe winter is my companion
and my comfort of much needed silence;
how I embrace her blackest of precious pearls
the graceful midnight’s turn of velvet and 
down of warmth of knowing 
rabbits sleep safe and softly below. 

Maybe, I am able to burrow next to 
my own soul’s deepest throes; 
my heart aches to replenish and 
my mind’s prism 
is at last able to paint canvas 
of infinite sky and speculative wonder.

And maybe, it is sacred to 
rest under the artic chill 
till springs lightness tugs me forth, 
and my aged budding
is once again renewed.

Artwork by Lucy Campbell


Carolyn Riker is an elementary teacher, mental health counselor, writer and a poet who finds comfort and balance in her kids, nature, music and her sweet cat Copper.  She can be seen sipping soy lattes, nibbling on dark chocolate or savoring a full-bodied red wine. Introspective, forthright, kind and compassionate, she intertwines life with yoga, meditating and learning about Vedic Astrology and Ayurveda.  She also writes for Elephant Journal and Rebelle Society. Carolyn can be reached via her e-mail address carolynra7@hotmail.com or on facebook here.  




~If you are interested in seeing your poetry appear in this blog, or submitting a poem by a woman that has inspired you, please click here for submission guidelines. I greatly look forward to hearing from you!~ 

Comments

  1. Beautiful imagery, depth and feeling, Carolyn. Thank you for this. It nestled me right in to my heart and to this morning's rain.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you so much Leslie for you beautiful words. Let's go into these winter months and cultivate our gifts. ~ Carolyn

      Delete
  2. The gift of your words has touched my heart and soul! I plan to share this by reading it at a Sacred Circle in the woods tomorrow evening. Thank you so much.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Christine, I am so honored by your words! Many thanks. You brought my heart a huge smile. ~ Carolyn

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

MY HEART SEEPS by Edith Lazenby

Courage is not only facing fear, but also looking past fear, to see what lies it tells and truths it saves...
Sometimes I sit at a computer in trepidation. The house trembles and I wonder what I will find. 
Truth is not a fact or a feeling. It may rest on love’s heart and walk with integrity. It may stand beyond humanity in ways we can only imagine. Truth can be solid as earth and fickle as wind. But a wind can know stillness and the earth can crack wide open.
Tonight I found a stillness in a crack and managed to balance there...


My Heart Seeps
by Edith Lazenby
I cannot hold on And I cannot let go. I walk a path I don’t know. I feel moonlight But cannot see Its orb midst The cloudy cold. My hands tremble. My eyes tear. My toes wriggle To grasp earth. I want to stand Tall in the light Yet fear shadows all. Inside I crumble Under the weight I cannot shoulder.

FOR THE SISTERS by Tammy T. Stone

These days, I’m finding it difficult – along with many, many others - not to feel disheartened...
I'm disheartened by the feeling that chaos has descended upon us, at the negativity and fear, the anger and reactivity, the violent spirit of animosity characterizing the times. It’s hard not to give in to the feelings of helplessness and hopelessness, even as we cling to the strong conviction that it is our positivity and our love that will prevail.
Every crevice of my heart goes out to the suffering (and we are all suffering when one of us suffers), and my heart aches for the untold numbers of women around the world who are immediately and devastatingly affected by recent decisions to cut funding to organizations vital to their health and wellbeing, a movement that horrifyingly undermines women’s sovereignty over their own bodies. Words do not do the feeling justice.
It feels to me that the earth itself is overturning, that our fragile grasp of what is right and true, of our incredibl…

IMAGINE A WOMAN by Patricia Lynn Reilly

This poem invites you to look upon yourself with loving kindness…
Gazing at your own true reflection, you will discover that everything you have longed for “out there” is already within you! I invite you to love your creativity fiercely. Faithfully plant seeds, allowing under-the-ground dormant seasons, nurturing your creative garden with love and gratitude. In the fullness of time, the green growing things thrust forth from the ground. It's a faithful, trustworthy process. AND it takes time and patience.  Blessed is the fruit of your creative womb! I invite you to trust your vision of the world and express it. With wonder and delight, paint a picture, create a dance, write a book, and make up a song. To give expression to your creative impulses is as natural as your breathing. Create in your own language, imagery, and movement. Follow no script. Do not be limited by the customary way things have been expressed. Your creative intuition is original. Gather all of life into your inner c…