Dangerous Days

Someone asked me today what I thought my trajectory might be for 2016.  I said I really have no idea.  It isn't something one can answer off the cuff, if that one is me, I suppose.  After some thought I'm sure I will come up with something.  I like the word 'trajectory' better than 'goals', 'ambitions', or the dreaded, 'resolutions'.  (Sounds so final, and defining and confining, that one).

You may have ideas for my proposed trajectory.  Or not.  But regardless, I felt a word of poetry was in order, because it has such rich meaning, and a great message for us all.  And since I didn't write it, I can commend it to you:

Sleepers, Awake

These are the dangerous days
Christmas elation is past
ornaments now put away
bells are no longer ringing
carolers cease their singing
clean snow slowly grays.

These are the dangerous days
as we turn from adoring the child
to adding up income taxes 
to writing thank-you letters
no longer givers, but getters
we resume old ways.

These are the dangerous days
tempting to slump and to doze
when every day is too short
each bathroom tile too cold
each body joint is too old
Sunwarmth's chilled by haze.

These are the dangerous days
wise-men return to their homes
shepherds again climb hills
shivering with cold through the nights
lonely with sheep on the heights
Herod comes and slays.

therefore a time for alertness
time to be watchful and pray
dark nights of the soul
have no permanent role
in hearts raised daily in praise.

from A Deeper Hunger Starts by Andrew T. Roy  (Collected Poems)


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