This is a sad twist on an old tale — a carol for our present circumstances.
Why won’t Wise Men deliver their gifts?
They have displayed the glittering promise
from the backs of their awkward mounts,
circling endlessly in the featureless waste.
Shepherds cannot point the way,
they search for their scattered sheep
dispersed by the predator’s smell
or the brazen lure of a better life.
Please show me the strong stable?
We have no Star , there is no lightness
in the peoples heart, just emptiness.
Trust no stranger for directions!
This year, the dark brings confusion,
no resting merry gentlemen, but much dismay.
Black Friday will not succour us, nor satisfy
our over-valued sense of worth.
We are the lowing cattle, our manger
kindling for the Wise Men’s fire.
Straining to hear, in the growing wind,
a pealing bell that rings a true note.
