LUMINARIA
I just read a poem about them, those lights in the darkness,
a shape poem in which the lines take the curve of paper bags
filled with sand, holding candles, little fires flickering.
Once, our neighborhood did this, trying to light the way
for the Christ Child to enter the world, even though snow
was piled in icy heaps, little Everests, each one needing
to be climbed to place our small offerings. My husband
and children stayed inside, unwilling to face
the bitter cold. Only my dad came out with me,
our difficult relationship left behind in the warm
house, just the two of us in the bleak night,
trying to keep those brave flames burning, even as the wind
snuffed each one out behind our bent and aching backs.
~Barbara Crooker
