It’s difficult this Christmas
Its meaning still to see,
Wondering what kind of end
Of year this one will be.
It’s harder now, when loved ones
We cannot so easily meet,
To trust the deeper Love –
It seems this year a tougher feat.
It’s harder when our wider culture
Yearly holds less dear
The startling news, that in a baby
God himself drew near.
To see beyond the stress –
And press of gaudy TV show,
Hard for the world to see
When it so little wants to know.
Not easy either in the dark
The solitude and space
Of my own heart, to catch a glimpse
Of that shy agent, grace.
Yet even when uncertainty
And fear close in like night
The Christ-child who in secret came
Still sheds abroad his light.
Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay
Your hand upon the window, and my hand mirrors yours,
In the midst of this year’s tragedy
This image gives us pause.
Your hand upon the window,
We saw but could not touch,
I’m not sure anything could quite prepare us all for such…
Such sadness and confusion,
The longing and the pain,
Fearful whether we could ever hug or touch again.
My strong desire to hold you
The rules would not allow,
Our bodies, such a precious gift
Are dangerous for now.
Hope is slowly taking shape,
The promise that next year
We can once more live and breathe
More freely, without fear.
Like distant glowing train lights,
A vaccine hope that then
We’ll once more have the chance to hold
Each other close again.
And so now, facing you
I to the window press my hand
And hope that of your pain I may
A small part understand.
And as that greater Love
In secret, close to us once drew
I pray you’ll know this love
Now drawing closer still to you.
For BBC Radio Leeds & other stations.
Image by tatlin from Pixabay