Christmas by Diana Harkness



Papier-mâché lamb so sweet

Cuddles with cow and ass and boar.

A child’s hand with warm regard

Places the lamb in excelsior.


While angels slice through glassy haze

Trailing shadowed threads of gloom,

Hurling barbs of soot and ash

Bearing neither light nor tune

To suffering children.


And the weak,

Who seeming strong,

 Take up the task of tuneless song,

Those weak who visioned gentler times

Leave all comfort, sweetness, light

For those to come, who now are here;


Whose eyes are blind to angels’ flight.

Who listen not for angels’ tread,

Nor hear the words that might inspire

Nor dream the dreams that push ahead.


The curtain shreds in silent scream

A mother’s heart is rent asunder.

Jingle, jingle, all the way

Let’s celebrate this Christmas wonder.

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