I cancelled Christmas several years ago
deciding not to celebrate at all.
That was back when I was merely small
potatoes in your mind, before you loved me so.
We’d only had two dates (unless you count
that warm-up date that you insisted on),
and then you flew away for Christmas, gone
with just a handshake and a closed account.
And so I cancelled Christmas just like that.
I called my mother and I told her I would skip
the family thing, shut off the carols, sat
and waited for the sinking of the ship.
Surprised? Even then, before you were my wife,
you knew that you’d become my thrill in life.
That night that consummated all that is!
Event that validates each human breath!
Occasion that makes sense of all of this,
all pain, desire, fear, all life and death!
If God created life that He might live
and made mankind to house His glory in
and if He bled and suffered to forgive,
designing pain to bear the weight of sin,
then I will love, for there is cause to care
for every human pain however small,
and revel like a glad, expectant heir
and sing, whatever tragedies may fall.
If God was born, then celebrate the Light.
If not, then hope and peace are fools tonight.
The day awaits. A thousand unborn things
will soon enshrine themselves within my past,
though now no more than mere imaginings.
Will this day be less stressful than the last?
Perhaps I’ll find that Visa bill I lost,
or put my foot in my mouth as I’m so fond
of doing. Or will my simple boss accost
me yet again, and how will I respond?
But the future can wait in bas-relief,
emerging from the haze of expectation.
There’s time enough to battle unbelief,
for stress, for fear, for sanctification.
Let’s treasure, while the silence will allow,
the delicate eternity of now.
