thunder rumbles in the mountain passes
and lightning rattles
the eaves of our houses.
flood waters await us in our avenues.s
snow falls upon snow, falls upon snow to avalanche
over
unprotected villages.
the sky slips low and grey and threatening.
we question ourselves.
what have we done to so affront
nature?
we worry god.
are you there? are you there really?
does
the covenant you made with us still hold?
into this climate of fear and apprehension, christmas
enters,
streaming lights of joy, ringing bells of hope
and singing carols of forgiveness high up in the bright air.
the world
is encouraged to come away from rancor,
come the way of
friendship.
it is the glad season.
thunder ebbs to silence and lightning
sleeps quietly in the corner.
flood waters recede into
memory.
snow becomes a yielding cushion to aid us
as we make
our way to higher ground.
hope is born again in the faces of children
it rides on the
shoulders of our aged as they walk into their sunsets.
hope
spreads around the earth. brightening all things,
even hate which
crouches breeding in dark corridors.
in our joy, we think we hear a whisper.
at first it is too
soft. then only half heard.
we listen carefully as it gathers
strength.
we hear a sweetness.
the word is peace.
it is loud
now. it is louder.
louder than the explosion of bombs.
we tremble at the sound. we are thrilled by its presence.
it is
what we have hungered for.
not just the absence of war. but, true peace.
a harmony of spirit, a comfort of courtesies.
security
for our beloveds and their beloveds.
we clap hands and welcome the peace of christmas.
we beckon
this good season to wait a while with us.
we, baptist and buddhist, methodist and muslim, say come.
peace.
come and fill us and our world with your majesty.
we, the jew
and the jainist, the catholic and the confucian,
implore you to
stay awhile with us
so we may learn by your shimmering light
how
to look beyond complexion and see community.
it is christmas time, a halting of hate time.
on this platform
of peace, we can create a language
to translate ourselves to
ourselves and to each other.
at this holy Instant, we celebrate
the birth of jesus christ
into the great religions of the world.
we jubilate the precious
advent of trust.
we shout with glorious tongues the coming of
hope.
all the earth’s tribes loosen their voices to celebrate
the promise of
peace.
we, angels and mortals, believers and nonbelievers,
look
heavenward and speak the word aloud.
peace.
we look at our world and speak the word aloud.
peace.
we look at each other, then into ourselves,
and we say without
shyness or apology or hesitation:
peace, my brother.
peace, my sister.
peace, my soul.
poem by maya angelou; picture at top by michael kimble, art at bottom by Brian Kershisnik.
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