The Longest Night…

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I am a child of Winter.

Literally.

I was the second child in my family born on December 25.

My mother had years of traditions that placed Santa Claus on Christmas Eve and two birthday cakes with separate birthday presents on Christmas morning.

Yet, what I honor and love is the longest night of the year, the Blessed Winter Solstice

My time was spent at a grandmothers home tucked into a tiny town in the Wisconsin countryside

Resting on the shores of a beloved lake, usually semi frozen

Water in any form is my element.

We were far from artificial light that dims the night sky and stars from view. I could see them all on a clear night.

Cold with sometimes fallen snow, I simply was bundled to stay outside on this treasured night.

If cloudy, my love and awe were not dampened.

I have cherished this dark all of my life.

Others will celebrate a birth tonight,

I start that tomorrow, revering both Mother and child.

This is my tradition.

I claim it as only my own.

I light no candles.

No fires are burned.

Know this night on its own terms. It needs no illumination. That time will come soon enough.

If I must , I speak only in whispers.

Better to hear the silence.

No rush, no hurry, just being enveloped by that which is wrongly declared hostile.

This is my home.

Give me a north wind with many long winter nights.

I will relish them until I no longer exist.

For in this night, in this darkness, a hibernation of the senses,

I meet my soul from a time I have yet to know.

She is old, wearing life on her face,

always fierce, sometimes stark,

I love her deeply.

She can be found here, on this, the longest night.

Blessings to all
Bridget Robertson

 

 

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8 thoughts on “The Longest Night…

  1. OMG! That was beautiful. I love the written word. Who is your favorite author?! I’m almost could have written this….I love the cold, the night, I was born in November (so I guess I’m a child of the fall), I love the water! Funny, huh?

    I no longer live near the ocean but when I did I would go there in the winter and sit on the beach at night. Nobody is there. I would get a box of mints and ice water and just relax. The cold relaxes me. I can sleep in the freezing cold. It’s weird. My wife would go with me all bundled up….she is a good woman! 🙂 She liked the empty beach too.

    I used to paint watercolors and write short stories but time stole most of that. I hate my busy life. Any how, I found an outlet for my creativity. I create photos and digital art. Here’s a link – http://ejkaull.deviantart.com/gallery/

    I think I’m going to be reading a lot of your work. Maybe it will be my daily mental health RX. 🙂

  2. a noche más larga … 20 de diciembre 2014
    Yo soy un hijo de invierno.
    Literalmente. Yo era el segundo hijo de mi familia nacida el 25 de diciembre.
    Mi madre tenía años de tradiciones que colocaron Papá Noel en Nochebuena y dos tortas de cumpleaños con regalos de cumpleaños separados en la mañana de Navidad.
    Sin embargo, lo que me honro y el amor es la noche más larga del año, la Santísima Solsticio de Invierno
    Mi tiempo se dedicó a una abuelas casa metidos en un pequeño pueblo en el campo de Wisconsin
    Descansando en las orillas de un lago amada, por lo general semi congelado
    El agua en cualquier forma es mi elemento.
    Estábamos lejos de la luz artificial que oscurece el cielo de la noche y las estrellas de la vista. Podía verlos todos en una noche clara.
    Frío con nieve veces caído, simplemente fue incluido quedarse fuera en esta noche preciado.
    Si nublado, mi amor y admiración no se humedecieron.
    He acariciado este oscuro toda mi vida.
    Otros celebrarán esta noche nacimiento,
    Empiezo que mañana, reverenciar tanto la madre y el niño.
    Este es mi tradición.
    La reclamo, ya que sólo la mía.
    Enciendo no hay velas.
    No hay fuegos arden.
    Conoce esta noche en sus propios términos. No necesita ninguna iluminación. Ese momento llegará pronto.
    Si debo hacerlo, hablo sólo en susurros.
    Es mejor escuchar el silencio.
    No hay prisa, no hay prisa, simplemente siendo envuelto por la que se declaró erróneamente hostil.
    Esta es mi casa.
    Dame un viento del norte con muchas largas noches de invierno.
    Voy a disfrutar de ellos hasta que ya no existo.
    Pues en esta noche, en esta oscuridad, una hibernación de los sentidos,
    Me encuentro con mi alma de una época todavía tengo que saber.
    Ella es de edad, llevaba la vida en su rostro,
    siempre feroz, a veces cruda,
    Yo la amo profundamente.
    Ella se puede encontrar aquí, en esto, la noche más larga.
    Bendiciones a todos
    Bridget Robertson

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