Come All Ye Faithful
With shoulder joints abrading as though the life inside has been wrung dry,
time, the chewer of corpses and gnawer of bones pauses on its way-
twigs on the yule blaze, blinking grey and white beside the log
and a scent of rosewood and cedar light in the air.
This cold just outside is a reminder that resurrection apparently hinges on one man;
a Son of Holy Parentage beyond any passion or tribe.
And why not? We’ve each seen miracles beyond the dark of night.
At the border of eternity and a flimsy screen door,
ain’t nobody can hold my body down.
Divergence of stream and bed?
Ain’t no one can hold my spirit down.
Spoken in tongues true as jet ravens and allegorical fish,
a single green leaf of grass worn for the God of spring
lies deep beneath this long December night.
Regardless, weave a story that makes you feel welcome in your own body and mind,
a glorious happenstance of place, time and family this Christmas season-
and in place of violence and jealousy,
light a candle of trust in that God you believe
and as that flame burns circles of hope in the garment of fear,
write in chalk on the door of your soul: