Yes, Christmas will be with us in less
than a month. However, not everyone enjoys a happy Christmas. For homeless
people and others down on their luck, it is a time much like any other
time...unless we can somehow make it special for them too.
Years ago, I met a homeless gay man
who had been physically ejected from his family home on Christmas Day after his
father discovered he is gay. This Christmas, I know of a couple on the run from
their families who disapprove of their relationship because they are on
opposing sides of the same religion. [If God doesn't mind, why should anyone else?]
No matter what religious festival
is being celebrated at whatever time of year, a little understanding goes a
long way. It is, after all, part of the pact we make with love. And what worth
any religion without love in it? I am told that the God in whom so many people
believe is a God of Love. Take love out of the prayer and ritual and all I
imagine He sees is someone enjoying an ego trip.
We can't always expect to
understand those we love and may not always agree with them, but that doesn't
(or shouldn't) mean we love them less. It has always been one of humankind's
greater tragedies that too many of us let socio-cultural-religious traditions
dictate how we live, even love.
At the heart of every religious celebration is (or should be) love in all its shapes and forms...or what is there left that any God would have anyone celebrate?
LOOKING OUT FOR CHRISTMAS, ANYONE?
Come, hear the bells of Christmas
though lost, alone, in the snow,
recalling times past when we’d
leave
a card for Santa, hot cocoa
and a mince pie, try to sleep while
listening out for reindeer hooves
pounding across the sky, a cheery
cry
ringing loud and clear for children
everywhere to hear, know (for sure)
that we are loved, no matter who
we are or how our lives shaping up,
whether or no we’re finding signs
of Christmas or much the same
cruelty
(or worse) than the day before
Peering ahead down an endless road,
lost souls, alone, no place to go
till time (at last) to reclaim
gifts of love
and peace, count blessings, let
bells
speak for us, echo high and low,
anxious
to share out the joys of Christmas,
fearful for lost souls looking for
refuge
from a bitter-sweet winter snow
where no pretty flowers able to grow
yet nurtured out of sight and light
by Earth Mother, chief carer for a world
beyond even mind-body-spirit,
where all the odds stacked high against
mutual understanding or trust
Copyright
R. N. Taber 2003; 2013
[Note: This poem has been slightly
revised since it first appeared in Christmas
Remembered, Anchor Books [Forward Press] 2003 and subsequently in The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004]
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