Sunday, December 20, 2020

The spectre at your feast


 This week, Sylvia Daly's poem hints at a different Christmas meaning - which seems appropriate, as this year it's definitely going to be a different kind of Christmas for us all. Thought-provoking.

P.S. Nevertheless, we wish you all a cosy, healthy and safe Christmas!



Christmas Visitor


I am the dark Christmas Angel,

the spectre at your feast.

Watching over celebrations

that change you to gorging beast.


Your God, reduced and captured

in swaddling clothes and stall,

gentle, safe, rendered harmless.

Offending none and pleasing all.


This is not the Christ of my world,

doe-eyed baby smiling sweet.

My Christ suffers, works for justice,

speaks with passion, acts in heat.


Is there a place for such as I

at this false, festive season

With myriad gifts, glittering trim

and drink to lose all reason?


Yes, I’ll attend your vulgar romp,

though not atop your burdened tree.

A shadow fleeting, movement quick,

a flicker in the eye, knows me.


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