POEM - Mother Christmas

And just what does it mean to give thanks?

That day in Bethlehem
When those three kings came with
Gifts for the little Baby King -
Did even one of them stop and say to Mary:

"Thank you for salvation" ?
"Thank you for showing me the way home" ?
"Thank you for your efforts, for the
pain you are about to endure for all of this" ?

Did they?

It is no mean feat to traffic in
The joy that you've heaped upon this world,
Creating nothing less than a brand new landscape.
It is a revolutionary act to raise a child –
Threatening Herod in his dreams with Baby Kings,
Born in some hangnail of a stable,
Not even fit for the animals that lived there.

Dear Mother, can you feel the rising thankful blood
That flows through these hands of mine tonight?

Here on this paper in fragments like bones
I spill words like the gifts of aimless Majii
Who come to bear witness to a new terrain that
You’ve carved out with your own heart space.

For this is what you bring forth like December snows:
That each time we make contact with another,
Is one more chance for us to be changed.