Up here, drifting in the infinite dark, I hear their prayers: the women of Naxos, of Crete, of Athens and Argos and every far-flung corner of the world. They call to me when the throes are upon them, when they tussle with the greatest struggle of humankind, when they summon every ounce of resolve and determination that they possess to bring another light into the universe. They call to me to guide their babies to safety, warm and damp in their arms. And here, in the dark bowl of the night sky, I hear them. I turn my light toward them and I bathe them in its unquenchable glow, gathering them
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