It is the kind of light
That pools in the palm
Of your hand,
Slung low beyond the horizon,
Marking the shortest of days.
Darkness has two edges,
Hiding some,
Threatening others,
Offering only a mirror
For souls.
History shares the heralding
Of resilient hope,
Hovering over meager lives
On one edge of the solstice.
Fear is silenced,
Fortitude embraced,
And grace shines.