“Light,” Ensign, July 1988, 64


    Honorable Mention

    The lampglow

    on my daughter’s blonde hair

    forms a halo

    where she reads across the table,

    the grain of oakwood between us

    spiraled like galaxies and polished

    to hold the light.

    To hold the light

    in these late hours we have our lamps

    and books. She reads from a New Testament

    and I from The Art of Rembrandt,

    his paintings have drawn me

    by their use of light and shadow:

    Aristotle, Christ, Jacob Blessing

    the Sons of Joseph—always

    the light coming from the right,

    “… man’s more sacred side.”

    “Man’s more sacred side.”

    Is that what we fail as we hurl ourselves

    through life? In the portraits

    of Rembrandt, the light honors

    what is human and what is God-like,

    accepting a place where they meet,

    his later biblical paintings

    all completed, uncommissioned,

    out of his own need.

    Out of our own need,

    in this Sabbath between the closing leaves

    of prayer plants and the pale

    blossoming of sleep, we read,

    my daughter and I,

    finding again the Word …