Chiaroscuro
Holding on to the light through winter’s dark.
January 5th
I dreamt of my anger:
An animal wrapped up in a bright red shawl.
It looked me straight in the eye as I anticipated its rapid advance.
It was raining. We were in my garden.
*
The cold weather does not weigh as heavily as the season’s darkness. Where do we aim towards when the sun becomes an outcast, when its light stays the same throughout the day regardless of the hour — 9 a.m., noon, 3 p.m.?
At sunset there might be a slither of light breaking through a softer cloud — an escapee clad in orange and red, dashes of fading pink.
A flock of diligent clouds keeping guard until
*
February soon. Summer somewhere. Star sign: The Water Bearer.
I celebrate my birthday in winter now. Valentine’s. I was born on a Saturday at noon. It was Carnival.
It snows in January. A boy’s prayer has been finally answered, slowly over time.
And suddenly, it thaws. In between snowing and thawing, our footsteps printed on the path towards and back from the field where we laid down on the cold and soft snow, laughing. Our arms spread out, flapping. We left angels in our trail.
Further along, index finger to the snow, he traces one of his favourite characters from a Nintendo video game.
A few moments earlier, he had spotted Blackbird pecking on a snow-less patch, under the protection of very tall pine trees.
Everywhere else and around was covered in winter white. It was as if Blackbird had its own force field.
*
January 8th
There was a weather warning. Warning of snow and ice.
Snow in a car park, a poet in Minneapolis.
She was also a mother. Her surname was Good.
*
One of those winter days when light
Not only hesitates, but strays
Away from darkness
So that it can find solace, a safe haven
Elsewhere
Until
*
It is not until
Twenty minutes before I am due
To pick up my child from school
(we actually meet at a nearby field)
That I am finally able to settle
Into my own rhythm
(my place at our daily table)
And manage to write some of this.
*
January 9th
Some people are destined to be
A country you wished you had visited.
*
Something in my past has taught me
To rely
On the expansiveness of my own mind
(Inner flame sparked by inherent excitement,
The opposite of abandonment) —
A slice of infinity within
My reach.
*
January 11th
Brasil:
I salute your strength
In the face of your own history.
Brasil,
Ongoing sketch
For a masterpiece.
(January 2026.)
Luciana Francis