Candlemas
This is the day that I would live again.
Among the petty rules, unsubtle bullying
of boarding school,
this would be my Groundhog Day,
my Imbolc, day of light.
Down the years I live it now:
candles before dawn in the cold refectory,
chairs and tables flickering.
The taste of lemon, honey
hot, sharp, sweet in my throat.
Down the dark and freezing corridors
young girls waiting in the shadows.
We pass the flame among us,
start to sing in clear high voices
haunting plain chant calling up the light.
Down the corridors and down the years I hear it now:
Lumen ad revelationem gentium.
This is the day that I would live again.