Dim and Not
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
He carries one white candle in the space
Beneath the temple vaults. He has to hold
His hand in front of it, so just a trace
Of light escapes. The candle’s flame shines gold
Yet it is blocked by palm and fingers so
A forward gleam is not allowed. It shines
Against them and his face and chest, but low,
A slightly flickering soul. His hand confines
The depth of glow in front of him. Beyond,
Above him arches feel the hovering sheen
And vestments beam like silk as if a wand
Were passing there beneath them. None more clean
Than this can be imagined. In his eye
Held tears imply the Christmas stars on high.
~ Phillip Whidden
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