Solstice Poems (2012-2024)
I write a poem at least every other year on December 20/21/22, honoring the Solstice. Usually it involves going back to the previous poetry, revising phrases, and adding a new spiral. It becomes a form of palimpsest.
The Solstice poems are included as part of my latest published poetry collection, Digital Satori.
Wishing you a rejuvenating, heart-full turn of the year as we greet 2025.
“The heart has reasons that reason cannot know.”
– Blaise Pascal
2012
Solstice
冬
Some view winter as hibernation; waiting; a pause for a point.
Solstice means “sun stands still”,
yet there is nothing entirely still here.
Winter’s pulse prevails.
Its grip can be felt at the core:
crystal, pure and piercing.
The glow of a flame,
the stammer of starlight.
The turning, the look inside.
2014
Solstice
Some view winter as static
hibernation, waiting,
a pause for a point.
The word solstice means sun stands still,
yet, there is nothing entirely still about winter.
Its crystalline pulse prevails,
griping the core:
pure and piercing.
The glow of a flame,
the stammer of starlight.
The turning,
the look inside.
2016
Solstice
Winter is a season of patience.
The harvest over, there is this
darkened space and a candle,
the taking stock and rationing.
Flexibility takes such balance,
such gentle compassion and love.
It is not static. It is not selfish.
I am not I. Here, the light glows…
And the heart has its reasons. It opens
just as the stars seem to stammer out
timeless incantations, connecting me,
reminding me of the empty spaces,
the true nature of flow,
emptiness that keeps its constant.
The turn,
the look inside
that sees outward.
2018
In Beauty
we share this solace
this space
between then and ever after
comes here, the turn inward
that sees outward.
It is the seeing that we cultivate,
a deeper seeing
pulse without
pulse within
feel the kickdrum of the heart
beating incantation
as stars beckon
listen, see,
loud as a whispered
truth in the ear.
Seeing and hearing,
now with the heart.
2020
Solstice
This has happened to you all along,
the birds summoning you,
telling you the path to travel,
while you, brazen, plunged ahead
with whatever plans seemed best.
They knew where the berries and seeds waited for you.
Now, you stop to listen.
They teach you to begin to look up,
over and over the incantation,
notice, notice, notice
the earth itself and your own astonishment
as witness and participant
in the swirl.
You pause to invite a deeper knowing,
that is itself a truth,
your first truth:
time
is a relationship
a mindful love affair with yourself
and all the rest will come.
Looking around, you see many possibilities extended
many paths.
You wanted to know
where the path back to yourself
begins.
You scanned the horizon,
searching for the inroad,
only to discover
a softer trail,
footpath where your tread is lighter.
You pause to listen,
take it slowly,
remember how good it feels to move,
how the arc of your arms can stretch to greet the sky.
Here, you stand on it, your softer path.
and though buried with brush and brambles, it reveals itself,
now earthed and rich, luminous, this path stretching out
before you. You have been on it, walking the path,
at times, floating above it, at times part of the earth itself,
yet always here, held, and guided.
2022
Solstice
The moon is always female.
She waxes and wanes,
watching over me.
Darkness and light, ebb and flow,
the way the tide laps at your ankles.
You feel its gentle pull.
Pulse at the skin of your temple.
Sol-stice. Sun stands still beyond stillness.
Still here. Still water. Run Deep. Still True.
All new, 2023 beckons,
but I just can’t leave you behind.
The veil was lifted.
Imagery delivered from on high,
from a Webbed telescope.
ChatGPT indeed, the chatter and noise.
The day everyone speaks and no one listens
anymore
evermore
nevermore
Sand away rough edges.
Teach me to be human.
Teach me to listen, animal.
I love you
deep stars and deep trees.
I dwell here. Teach us to slow down and listen.
We are all connected.
The light shining, glowing from within,
playing on our eyelids, dancing
among us and through us.
Solstice. Here.
2023
Solstice
You came to the edge
of the ocean
to see its expansive possibility
calling out, reflecting the stars
Geminid twinned possibilities
fire dancing across the night sky.
The darkness feels pure,
sweet as honey, we can dwell here
a while, warmth of our hearts
pulsing, the stammer of starlight
gently brushing our lips smiling
turning, looking inside
Belonging, we were always
longing to belong. And here we are,
on the far side of AI evolutions,
learning once again how to Love.
Let us love both the dark and the light.
2024
In Beauty she is kind and wise, this half moon
balances light and dark
while anguish and anger rises.
Peace dwells in the moments
between moments. The world
is too much with us, so it seems,
and here on the Solstice
blissful stillness, sun stands still beyond stillness.
Stammer of starlight. Journey of stars
to reach our eyes, ancient becomes new
when we behold a promise of possibility,
a wish. What do we wish for, in this new
kingdom of extraordinary time, when
kings are coining their crowns and
crowing sovereignty? A new
form of wisdom is springing forth.
Data dignity, diligence, discipline,
and beauty in wild freedoms once
held lightly, now with gravity.
It’s an important time. Is it happening
in shadows, whispers of truth?
I see such beauty everywhere, even
in the faint half-light. Just this morning,
I saw a baby turtle lying exposed on the beach fringe,
no bigger than my palm. It tried to flip shell-side.
I watched it struggle, gently scooping sand to help.
A giant wave enveloped us both: its body, my legs,
now salt. Floating in the water,
movement is flow… surrender to embodiment.
Waves following the moon, wisdom,
tidal pulls. Subtle shifts. Solstice of stillness
beyond stillness. Movements.
The light is rising.
- Caitlin Krause
