Here’s a poem I’ve written to remind us what Christmas is all about. Happy Christmas to everyone who reads my blog.
The track we take is uncertain,
our impressions, lighter than donkey-prints
blown smooth in a storm.
We walk the moon’s path across sands
of time, there’s no measure yet,
except for stars twinkling into dawn.
Homeless in the house of our family
there’s nothing but endless night.
No trumpet sounds; no celebration horn
blows welcome notes into the dark sky.
We are anonymous, nobody important,
with only ass-breath to keep us warm.
Yet I have the wisdom of a mother
who knows she’s full of light,
accepts her pregnant pause with total calm.
And so we stand up to be counted.
Do they reckon my son –
as yet, unborn.