Do you see that lantern on the mantle?
Its light has shined on three generations of this family.
My grandfather learned to read under the tutelage of its glow.
He wrote love letters to my grandmother in verse reflecting
The warmth gathered from its flickering beam.
My mother found her way home through lost woods
To the waiting arms of my Dad,
And on the night I was conceived, it lent its sexuality.
Bright and slightly hesitant, still burn brightly
The night I was born, weaving moonbeams
Linking silver threads through the tapestry of our lives;
Illuminating my path through the years,
It has lit my tears and calmed my fears;
Beneath its flame we all found ways to heal
To bind up old wounds; to celebrate new beginnings,
While keeping vigil as loved ones passed away
One day I’ll pass it down to my children
Now crawling on the ground
And in its light they’ll learn to see within themselves,
Beyond themselves
I take it down and light it it’s blackened wick
Whenever I am consumed by darkness;
It watches over me and comforts me;
It reminds me that there are so many ways
To become illuminated
The Winter Bites My Bones 
Reading your blog has been a pleasure. I have been unemployed and money is getting tight. So this blogging is saving me and your poems are ones I always look forward to.
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I like this very much I still have the brass lamps my mother used as a child to go to bed!
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And I bet when you see or hold that lamp, your memories flood back just like mine. There’s magic in that lantern. You should just hold one for a moment and close your eyes and see your mother as a child..not your mother, but a vulnerable, growing child who would one day create you. What a beautiful meditation that would be.
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That is a wonderful thought, thank you!
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you have a wonderful way with words–weaving an old old story with new
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What a wonderful compliment. Thank you very much!
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I really enjoyed your poem
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Such a heart warming poem. Thank you for sharing it 🙂
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