Christmas, 2014
\nBy
\nJoseph Anthony<\/p>\n
Christmas, 2014<\/p>\n
I.<\/p>\n
On this eve of Herod\u2019s wrath
\nSurround yourself with animals
\nAnd shepherds, stars, and fragrant gifts
\nFrom the earth; find the lowly places
\nAnd give birth to death.<\/p>\n
II.<\/p>\n
Let the memories of trauma
\nSink and sift through root and bone,
\nHidden wells and sleeping seeds,
\nLet them die in silent peace,
\nAnd in the holy silence of bearing witness
\nAnd affirmation, transformation
\nAnd regeneration. Let them die
\nIn the roar of trees trampling through valleys
\nOf sorrow to lift up the child and adopt the child,
\nand keep it safe as long as it wants, as long as it needs.<\/p>\n
III.<\/p>\n
On this eve of Joseph\u2019s dreams
\nAnd trudging over roadless sand,
\nFind the star, any star, and go, Egypt awaits,
\nLand of Ra and Isis, and sacred geometry
\nOf hieroglyphs and feather scales.
\nGo, and hold innocence
\nAs never before\u2014bring a sword and pocketfuls
\nOf stones, do whatever it takes to say:
\nTonight innocence will be
\nKept safe and cherished above all things,
\nAnd all life will be honored, and all beings
\nAnd faiths, all people and creatures,
\nAll elements and angels, devils
\nAnd waterfalls, ponds, and lilies,
\nall stumblings and dancings,
\nAll things seen and unseen,
\nWill be bathed in starlight and wrapped
\nIn swaddling clothes.<\/p>\n
IV.<\/p>\n
On this eve of the saddest story ever told
\nOf a parent sacrificing his only child
\nTo cover up for his own mistakes,
\nAnd letting scores of other children die
\nIn its place,
\nOn this eve of nevermore,
\nThe child is king and queen alone
\nBy virtue of its innocence\u2014holy, exalted,
\nFull of wonder and grace,
\nMagnified and full of laughter.
\nThe child born tonight shall never know
\nThe pain of being separated from itself
\nOr the being abandoned to die while living.
\nIt will be whole.
\nSaving only itself.
\nAnd the unity of all things
\nThat echoes as a result
\nWill ring throughout the inner landscape of the soul
\nSetting fire to the imagination
\nAnd stream out of Egypt like a lion,
\nnot forgetting its heritage and upbringing,
\nBut to embrace the place that kept it safe
\nAnd call itself privileged to have been hidden
\nThose years in the land of pyramids and sphinxes.
\nAnd on this silent night, this holy night,
\nThis raging night divine,
\nThe child will be safe and sound,
\nand sleep in the tree of life,
\nlike a baby owl, waiting to fly.<\/p>\n