I meet this winter without celebration,
as the man who was dying, but now lives,
greets the ants that pass through his kitchen
in narrow, undisturbed rows.

When the child with her crown of candles
comes to my door in her white dress, singing,
I watch the delicate notes disperse in pale
cold light, like snow.

A few years ago, on this day, when Fairy Goddess Daughter Abigail lived with me, one of her classmates came to the door with her daughter and candles and cookies and song. The next year, when Abigail was no longer here, Carole came to the door again, and when I told her Abigail was not here, she said, I know. We came to sing for you. So they did.

Before this, I did not know about Santa Lucia Day.

Soon after, Niki shared with me the story of her friend who had survived  a supposedly terminal illness, and, having faced his own mortality, could not bring himself to kill the ants that had invaded his kitchen.

These gifts — song and story — came together to make this poem. So consider it a gift to you, from Niki and her friend; from Abigail; from Carole and her daughter; from me.

Lucia symbolizes light and growth for human and beast as she
emerges out of the darkness. May this season bring, to us all, light and growth.

Saint Lucy’s Day