This tree has no candles.
tree has no candles.
This tree has no needles
on presents at its feet.
This tree has no splendour,
torn from earth, wrenched from root.
The adorned silence of eternity replaces
of temporal branches.
This Christmas tree is pain-laden,
love created, garden grown, universal sown.
Cock-crowed carols surround it - searching for a tune.
This tree is advent epiphany fulfilled,
a sight for blinded eyes and the lame to dance their carols.
There is no Christmas without this tree, blood-brother to the tinselled child,
herald of eternity, gift wrapped present of a reconciled.
No other gift had such a wrapping nor was bought at such a price,
and neither would the giver plan another such device.
For here, and here alone, is there meaning for all things,
things of wonder, things of beauty, things of peace on broken wings.
in darkest places.
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