Is it possible we picked the place on purpose?
Prompting, pushing poetry, prophecy, protest (Me?) Perhaps the place picked us: The festival for the manger baby The busyness, the star, the stable Outside the inn Counting coins and traveling songs Birthing noise and sandals in dung Candlelight and conversation Baby with nowhere to go, see? Refugee At the door, no guards – but the soldiers come At the window, no bars – but the soldiers come Homeless and hopeful Swaddling clothes Back on the road in the morning Festival for a refugee Sweltering season Shelter and seeking Silent Night’s about asylum, right? The island, right? Attention centred on detention centres Herod’s slaughter of the innocents Holy night and all is alight with the riots (like the rhymes of the unheard) Vagabond Lord / International Law Human rights be a light on that tree Off and on among the evergreen From foreign seas with all the needle leaves Presents beneath (Secrecy) Red and green boxes Truth unseen You and me On our knees Trying to imagine just what could be Inside those boxes under lights Like the baby in the trough on the Christmas night Underneath a starlit sky Left outside Live or die Like the souls in those walls behind walls behind walls Behind wire Behind guards armed to fire And no cameras inside Unstable Small cages, big skies Little gifts, blinking lights Landless Lonely inside Homeless baby, right? While shepherds watch flocks we get undies and socks While the refugees burn down their cages, we tan In the afternoon street cricket sun while the man And the mother of Christ and her son weep and run To the country where once they were slaves Will they never be safe? The ocean of desert The island of beatings and torture and raping and worse All the waiting and waiting and waiting Away in a manger This little lost lady lies lonely and knows That this stable is out here for a reason: Too close to the homes filled with family and friends Then that animal stench would offend, you know? The cattle are lowing The baby awakes Lock that fucking gate On the one day that’s stranded in three sixty-four In the stable that’s stranded Amongst homes with their double-locked doors On the island that’s stranded by miles and miles, see? ‘Neath the star and the tree lights, ‘Neath the fires and the riots, In the swaddling, The manger, The cheap wrapping paper, In the fencing and cages, In the silence The silence of night, A Christmas surprise – and this on the island – A new baby cries out Tonight To you Comments are closed.
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July 2017
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