One Christmas I wrote two poems about a lighthouse, one that rhymed and one that did not. One of the difficulties of writing poetry occurs when some lines begin to appear on the paper with rhyme and rhythm but other lines do not. Originally, I wrote this poem with rhyme, but then I tried it again without. I posted “Lighthouse Dreams” last summer, but during this Christmas season, I remembered the Christmas lighthouse poem, and I decided to add that to my blog. I think the message is the same, but it’s just stated in a different form. What I love about lighthouses, besides the fact that my father also loved them, is the strength they always seem to have whether they stand on the shore in the heat of summer or during the icy days of the winter.
Winter’s grey light that smothers the beams
Pushes its way toward the keeper of dreams.
Snow swirling wildly in the icy white light
Dances on edges cut into the night.
Lonely and proud he stands on the shore
‘Mid jagged rocks and gentle roar,
Glowing, treetall soldier of the soul
Guiding us on toward a distant goal.
Angel lights twinkle in red, white, and green,
Illuminating joyous Christmas scenes
Far from the lighthouse with his circling light
Standing strong and silent on this Christmas night.
Like the Wise Men drawn to the manger scene,
We bring him gifts of our own inner dreams.
Years beyond this holy night
We’ll see them again in the glow of his light.
As he lifts them into the darkening sky
Scattering them far with unblinking eye,
Watching the dreamkeeper’s eternal call,
We follow the light to the last dream of all.
© Barbara Flass 2000