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Christmas Moon

The moon, in full splendor, in December’s third day,
anticipates, foretells, some might want to say,
the vibrant, vital light breaking through on that noted night
in a remote land so far away
in the form of an infant son, barn-born
and swaddle-tight,
now in a manger, the young mother close by to listen
in wonder, treasuring her visitors’ words,
bright words that glisten
with power and promise, the “good news
of a great joy…”

Light! light!
The dark craves it as much as hate craves love,
the moon not always there to see.
If history’s cloudy story were told, peace’s dove
only a whirring glance, a passing sign,
but for the gnawing hunger in some to be
something more, to dine
on grace’s indwelling strength and ingested hope,
stepping out of the shadows
to make known the extent, the scope, of life’s offer,
including its’ horror,
the unfathomable power of undying love,
even on a criminal’s cross at death’s door.

Christmas moon, Christmas moon,
shine ever true and bright,
in our hearts, every night, every night.
Fill our star-dusted bodies
with courage to look within, there to sight
all we need to make heaven of our hell,
God’s love implanted from the start,
waiting only for us, in our freedom of mind,
to discover it, to do our part,
and then, to celebrate in joy,
pulling the rope, ringing the muted bell,
announcing with our lives our sacred find.
All is well! All is well!

 

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