The poems in this book
are not for all mankind,
They are carefully selected
with you in mind.

They will bring you joy,
they will bring you tears,
Some even, you'll find,
will bring out your fears.

I hope you enjoy them
as much as I do,
And always remember,
how much I love you.

(alternate title: in which i reference three things)

there is snow general
all over Ireland

and that's all I know
about Ireland

except that it rarely snows
all over Ireland

so that's what makes the

holiday special

clear white gleam so we
can have epiphanies
and during these epiphanies

we realize sacrifice passion love
is better than things
we can control

writing can sometimes be a curse,
as much as it is a gift
it is beautiful to move people with your words,
it can also be quite devastating
when you can't even string words together
in order to bring comfort to a heart that is breaking
right before your eyes

:'(

Love those who accept blame
Along with the power
The greatest human beings
There in your darkest hour

Sweet child whose face is pure light
Is there anything that still you want?
Frankincense and gold and myrrh
Are yours as well as all the earth
You came to rescue all of us
Your life you gave upon the cross
You are the perfect gift for us
On this day called Christmas

These days the human race
is red-faced
in a battle of wits and wallets
over a Walmart shopping cart
Insanity.

A Christmas wish in a shopping list
the ultimate gift
unattainable
slaving over a hot stove for the perfect dish.

Christmas tradition
is more a religion
Crosby's voice
silky smooth over the radio airwaves

next to a roaring fire
surrounded by loved ones
while another outside loses their ear
to the cold.

From rags to riches
we're less familiar with the former
than the latter
we have to close our eyes

to silence the clatter
of sleigh bells a crackling fire
soothing Crosby and wishing wells
75 percent off and Hallmark originals

blinding Christmas lights up before our neighbor
lasting 'til the 4th of July
the only part of Christmas that makes it
beyond the winter season.

Lights still ever brighter in the hungry eyes
gazing upon shiny paper masking
a rectangular treasure trove of financial woes
shoved under the carpet 'til the tax returns
are our saving grace.

But what of the shining light
that pointed to a springing plight
foreshadowed in a squalid den
where a savior's life would begin?

He soon received gifts of men who lay at his feet
in worship of a hope in the flesh
they'd thought they would never meet

if the child only knew then that He would later be gifted with
a crown of thorns, the spit and curses of his friends, the kiss of a traitor, nails in his hands and feet to a splintered wooden cross.

What if we traded our presents for his presence
Sought our brothers and sisters in love because of his gift
one we could never have given but can graciously receive
one we will never deserve or earn but by his love we are set free.

If we set our eyes to the unseen how much more we will see clearly
that we can shed this wrapping paper like wiggling free of a spider's webbing
that we can no longer fret over the perfect gift because its already been given.

This Christmas season, lets get back to the reason
we love and we live, we laugh and we give
not in the vicious cycle of materialism and consumption
but in the holy light of grace and redemption.