Day 4 in our Advent journey, and today’s poem is a tribute to those of us who plod on, under heavy burdens, because that is what we have been called to do.

Blessed are you, the wage slaves. Blessed are you as you make the monthly mortgage, as you keep the electric meters turning. Blessed is the shrinking margin that you salt away for summer, and for the purchase of pink plastic things for the kids. For this too is holy.

It takes love to be a donkey. Lots of it.



Another day drops with a dull thud;

Dawns yellow from behind my unpeeled eyes.

I sigh.

Still, this old world keeps turning.


Two cups of coffee and a three rounds of toast

Set me on the road-

For the mortgage must be met

There is the holiday to pay for

And the kids need new shoes.

I’ve played these blues



There is a photograph on the dashboard

Stuck fast with love.

For their sake, this weary way

Is sacred;

It is my plodding pilgrimage.

Each hiss of tyre, another chant

Another spin of my holy prayer wheels.


I smile-

This old world keeps turning.

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