Hollow them, hallow them

A poem for the season of gathering and remembrance

Photo by Zoran Kokanovic on Unsplash

We can try to fill it up with candy and the cartoon costumes, and those are fun. And the season goes on being what it is: a time to kindle small lights against the growing darkness, a time to stand near one another for warmth against the growing cold, a time to remember our beloved dead and the ways their lives embraced our own.

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LITANY FOR HALLOWTIDE                                                                   2024

First One and Maker
Giver and Taker
hollow your children
hallow them all.

The dead and the living
forgiven, forgiving
the rich and the needy
the gracious, the greedy

Hollow them, hallow them
hallow them, hollow them
hollow them, hallow them
hallow them all.

Hallow in darkness
hollow in light
wounded in living
whole in your sight

Worthy, unworthy
the sick and the sturdy
hunter and hunted
the brave and the daunted

Hollow them, hallow them
hallow them, hollow them
hollow them, hallow them
hallow them all.

Hollow their hardness
fill it with light
hallow their brightness
to sing through the night

Cruel and caring
enduring, despairing
the lofty, the lowly
the vile and the holy

Hollow them, hallow them
First One and Maker
hallow them, hollow them
Giver and Taker

Hollow them, hallow them
hallow them, hollow them
hollow them, hallow them
hallow them all.

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This one came pouring out over two, maybe three days, earlier this month. That’s something that doesn’t happen to me, by the way. A first rough draft in two or three days? Sure. A completed poem? Not bloody likely. And yet, there this one was, and here it is.

Where did “hollow” come from? I wanted a word to chime with “hallow,” for one thing, and maybe I was also imagining how cleansing it could be sometime to be scooped out like a pumpkin, all the gooey stuff inside me collected and set aside to be planted or toasted or composted by somebody who knows what each part of it is for. And is a body hollowed out in death, when the soul says goodbye? And … once the busy-ness of harvest is over, there’s an emptiness to this season; things are ending, dying back, hollowing out. That’s okay; it’s part of the pattern of things. Another part of the pattern is our remembering, honoring, hallowing what’s ended and who’s departed from us.

However you name and observe your remembrance this year, I hope it’s a blessing for you. It can be a lonely time, as the days draw in to darkness; I hope you know that you’re not alone.