Christmas. Finished.

 

On linen and straw

lay a birth and a death.

God hedged by flesh

shepherds, magi.

It pleases us to imagine

God just born, vulnerable

delivery’s slick dross clings

the ache of mortality.

It’s comfortable: God

on bovine-scented straw

held in woman’s arms

and a lowly one at that.

It’s Christmas: a keening deity

swaddled. Bound

by a choice to come

die. One day. A black Friday.

Not Black Friday savings

markdowns, slashed prices.

But marked, slashed, battered

He saved us.

It’s God:

carrying His death and ours

to a far-off hill, an infinite burden.

A mustard seed must die

For a tree to thrive.

Centuries’ old tradition

…finished.

In linen and blood

hangs a birth and a death

God hedged by flesh

Crucified.

11 thoughts on “Christmas. Finished.

  1. Unknown's avatar Anonymous

    Kelly, The depth of meaning in your poem really touches my heart. God has blessed me through your gift of words. Thank you for sharing and may the joy of Christmas fill your family to overflowing.

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