Every atom
vibrant with life,
in the smallest creature
a spirit of fight
to survive. But beyond
the life and fight,
a holy light – a spark
dispelling the dark.
Call the source from which
it ignites whatever you wish –
love, God, Gaia,
Center Galactic Source,
Creator of all Creation,
Great Spirit, Mother, Father.
Holy sparks scattered
by the desert lark’s flight,
by bioluminescent plankton
glowing at the shoreline.
Daffodils frilling the greening
hills, whippoorwills calling,
stalling the night’s chill.
Holy sparks to counter
the Age of Terror, which would
extinguish all hope if we could not
distinguish between the false
and the holy, the latter preventing
our returning to the Dark Age.
Holy sparks in stardust, which of course
comes down to us – is us.
A warbler announcing spring,
doing his holy spark-flinging thing.
A fig tree full of sun-baked soil
and holy sparks within each fruit.
Even in the least-loved ragweed,
the millipede – holy, holy
sparks to save us from the dark.
Diana Woodcock is the author of seven chapbooks and three poetry collections, most recently Tread Softly (FutureCycle Press, 2018) and Near the Arctic Circle (Tiger’s Eye Press, 2018). She has two books forthcoming in 2021: Facing Aridity (a finalist for the 2020 Prism Prize for Climate Literature, Homebound Publications); and Holy Sparks (Paraclete Press).
Currently teaching in Qatar at Virginia Commonwealth University’s branch campus, she previously worked in Tibet, Macau and on the Thai/Cambodian border.
