Something for the Turning of the Year

After Bedevere’s second attempt to throw Excalibur into the lake, he returned to his King:

‘Lord, please. It’s impossible for me.’
‘Seems impossible, sweet friend.
Remember that Christmas morning the hawthorn
flowered, the day we found Lancelot.
Seemed impossible. But it happened, as if
by giving ourselves again and again
to the unknown we opened to grace, embraced
whatever makes this world new,
Bedevere, remember, the hawk of may,
and the head that speaks, the leaping hare
and the horse that flies from the spray, the spear
bleeding light and the blaze on the hill,
they called me king of adventures, remember
the stag in the hall and the queen of the hive,
the deerhound’s nose, the silver horn,
the salmon in the well, the thorn in winter
we saw flowering. Seemed impossible
but it all happened, the land held
open and whole and green and free
and it happened through us, as if
it were meant to happen.’

From “Arthur”, by Jamie Crawford