Bittersweet Christmas

Christ climbed down
from His bare Tree
this year
and ran away to where
there were no gilded Christmas trees
and no tinsel Christmas trees …
and no powderblue Christmas trees
hung with electric candles
and encircled by tin electric trains
and clever cornball relatives …
Christ climbed down
from His bare Tree
this year
and ran away to where
no fat handshaking stranger
in a red flannel suit
and a fake white beard
went around passing himself off
as some sort of North Pole Saint …
Christ climbed down
from His bare tree
this year
and softly stole away into
ome anonymous Mary’s womb again
where in the darkest night
of everybody’s anonymous soul
He awaits again
an unimaginable
and impossibly
Immaculate Reconception
the very craziest
of Second Comings

Some of you…