Christmas is Coming

Sometimes we forget the real message…

The pale, brittle blue Christmas Sky 

Flies against a purple sea,

.

Two bodies 

in the arch of heaven

stand above the day.

The rising sun, golden 

on cold, white snow.

The waning moon, 

Whispering platitudes

to pallid clouds.

There’s one more,

The unseen Morning Star, 

waxing bright tonight, 

guiding the Magi here.

I imagine the Redeemer 

come a second time.

The Christ,

from the glowing East, 

walking through orange dawn.

No print in snow 

to mark a stumbling path,

He grants benediction

with pierced, torn hands.

Moving on, he stoops

to touch a junkie

sporting torn trainers.

Your fellow man,

says the mendicant Messiah,

and I?

I stoop to offer kindness 

to his Servant,

and feel the wondrous

star-light on my back.