2015 12 17
I walk deserted streets frosted with snow
and glide alone shivering in street-light glow
past bright-blazing windows of cozy homes
where children play with toys and fairy tomes.
I pause before each pretty-painted door
where decorated holly wreaths hang hoar,
wrapped in tattered coat that drapes thin frail limbs,
and listen to families singing sweet hymns.
I see on high pyramid of gleaming stars
long-haired goddess singing to frosted cars
that stream along beams of cement rainbows
while I stand alone with grim cackling crows.
Christmas in Gotham on cold silent night
I walk with mute ghosts in bleak silver light,
who whisper sad tales of their desperate lives,
in search for garden where happiness thrives.
I see on lawn of old deserted church
statues of Joseph and Mary that lurch
in moon-frosted snow where eternal child
represents every child born in this world.
Millions of children live and die in hell
while Jesus stares entranced in shining well,
and single mothers sea to shining sea
struggle working hard for little money.
Each woman in this world of power games,
holding her precious child in loving arms,
lives as sacred and holy in my eyes
as Mother Mary, strong, caring, and wise.
Why do we celebrate one sacred child
when each living child, obedient and wild,
is god incarnate with body and mind
since we are angel and devil combined?
Christmas in Gotham of warm cozy homes
I walk alone where sorrowing death roams,
and pause on ringing harp of Brooklyn Bridge
to sing with angels while making a wish.
I wish for every woman, child, and man,
to see themselves in that Nativity Scene
as holy family alive on this Earth
for secret of afterlife is rebirth.