We are all caught up in the Christmas madness again. Over the last few years I have railed and moaned about all the wasted money and fake snowflaking. I will not do that this year- partly because it has been said, but also because it is better to start closer to home.
However, I always find myself conscious of those who are outside the plastic bubble we make out of Christmas. I suspect that Jesus would be too. That is what this poem is about;
Who can ever expect the unexpected?
For what is hope to those from whom hope has been taken?
Why promise light but leave us in darkness?
I stand in this shit of tinsel and trimmings
The bells are not ringing
I live in the space between
And what may never come.