No one can hold back the dawn
An hour from now, at 9:47 a.m. California time, our sun will reach its apparent southernmost point; the subsolar point will touch the Tropic of Capricorn; here in the northern hemisphere, our days will, at last, begin to lengthen.
Or, to put it another way, though this part was more relevant last night:
Now is the longest night of winter
When all the world awaits the sun's return.
—"Winter Solstice Round," Sky Evergreen
(Of course, it's really only half the world. But close enough for poetry work.)
And then there's this:
Light is returning
Even though this is the darkest hour
No one can hold back the dawn
--from Charlie Murphy's "Light Is Returning"
Of course, for those in the southern hemisphere, it's the other way around. I always feel a little bad for rejoicing in an improvement here that I would see as a worsening if I lived elsewhere. Nonetheless, rejoice I do.
No winter-solstice entry from me would be complete, of course, without my favorite lines from Susan Cooper's poem "The Shortest Day":
As promise wakens in the sleeping land:
They carol, feast, give thanks,
And dearly love their friends,
And hope for peace.
It's been a while since I've reached the end of a year and thought "Hey, that was a really good year"; most years since, oh, 2004 or so, I've reached the end of the year with more of a sense of exhaustion, and relief that that year is finally over and can be put behind me. This year, too, though it's had many very bright spots, has not exactly been the best ever. I'll be glad to see the end of it.
But, hey, 2010 is the future, so it's gotta be better, right?
As I said last year: In these dark times, I hope that light is returning to all of you who could use a little more light. May promise indeed waken in the sleeping land.
