A Poem for Christmas

I honestly cannot remember if I ever posted this, but this week, when I heard the Canadian prime minister speaking to the Syrian refugees who had arrived in Canada, his words struck a familiar chord, and I looked up my poem from last year. Here it is:

Poem for Christmas

I know the story bits:

no room at the inn,

a stable, wandering kings and

a star to follow; shepherds, lights

in a dark sky;

history and prophecy,

an evil king--

angels, sheep,

cows, and donkeys.

Then, camels!! And that star

converging on a nothing

town like Bethlehem....

This is a Radio City Music Hall

extravaganza, missing only cute puppies and kittens.

Stories! Signs! Wonders!

And the icing on the cake--a baby!

Whoever wrote this knew how to grab an audience.

Drama ensues.

But what’s really going on? Nothing.

No saving, no miracle,

no lesson, no evidence

that this is anything but an ordinary child.

(The halos were painted in later.)

The only voice we hear is the angel

(the Voice of God, perhaps?)

and he says, “Fear not.”

The age-old voice

of parent gentling a child:

don’t be afraid. I’m here.

I’ll protect you. Fear

not. I have happy news;

better than ice cream,

better than candy.

I’m here and you’re safe.

You’re with me, and you’re home.

God with us.

Glory be.