Poetry

no more squabbles

by Janice Cartwright
12/09/13
For Sale
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so settle the age old once for all

Christmas it’s called

but a rose by any name is still a rose

so quiet scrooges and voices of bashers

every shaker of fingers accusers and thinkers

its weary and worry and sucking out joy

great ruiner he is at it again

but he shall not win

no not this time not for me not for mine

he has had his fill taken enough

from family great chunks

may we get down quiet and listen

and hush our heads and open our hearts

to the Beauty

the Gift the Gift

just open our hands open wide

let go that tight little worrisome rag of fear

and know He came near

it is nothing you know an idol

so why make so much of it why give it brain space

that is the sin

why let that frowning Pharisee

crowd out the lovely honest and true

living breathing lying in a feed trough

Way Truth and Life

fragile gift its worth unknowable

set down like a gem in a cow booth

embodiment of God’s love

and we want to argue

no

but receive with thanksgiving

tears of astonishment that such a one as I

yes filthy to the core

would one day be counted righteous

counted among the worthy ones

so terribly grindingly undeserving

yet He gives a time a little space of time

for watching and stilling

quiet the King comes again