How the Light Comes

By Jan L. Richardson

I cannot tell you how the light comes.

What I know is that it is more ancient than imagining.

That it travels across an astounding expanse to reach us.

That it loves searching out what is hidden what is lost
what is forgotten or in peril or in pain.

That it has a fondness for the body
for finding its way toward flesh
for tracing the edges of form
for shining forth through the eye, the hand, the heart.

I cannot tell you how the light comes,
but that it does.
That it will.
That it works its way into the deepest dark that enfolds you,
though it may seem long ages in coming
or arrive in a shape you did not foresee.

And so
may we this day turn ourselves toward it.
May we lift our faces to let it find us.
May we bend our bodies to follow the arc it makes.
May we open and open more and open still

to the blessed light that comes.