Dearest Darkness
Dearest Darkness
An ode to the dark mother
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep—this line from Robert Frost’s beautiful poem Stopping By The Woods On A Snowy Evening plays over and over in my head this time of year. The winter solstice draws out the contemplative in me and Frost is wonderfully provocative.
His poetry and that of so many others about the dark is what drew me to dive into a writing prompt from Mary Reynolds Thompson. She shared David Whyte’s poem Sweet Darkness and invited readers to write a letter to the darkness. I jotted it down pretty quickly yesterday and tucked it away. Last night, my early writing got reworked and reworked until the final form turned into an ode this morning.
Vivienne, the Lady of the Lake, is a regular dream visitor for me since the beginning of December. So, I could not resist incorporating her. The photo I used is courtesy of Umut Sarıalan
May the darkest night of the year light a fire inside of you.
Love your ode to the dark mother. Thank you for sharing. I am a child born of the dark nights of winter.
I love Frost, largely because he's a tricky fellow and likes to hoodwink his readers sometimes. I always say this poem is "Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening." But there's no "the," it's just "Stopping by Woods...." I swear he did that on purpose. (And I revally love the image of an Alpine Church)