A PEACE THAT PASSETH UNDERSTANDING

A PEACE THAT PASSETH UNDERSTANDING

Here we are, about to go tumbling

Into the arms of another yuletide,

Merrily we come bumbling, giddily we come stumbling

Stoking the fire and hanging the stockings;

When troubles and cares come knocking .

Trimming the tree, uncorking the wine.

We celebrate in uncertain times,

Neo-fascists and. anti-Semites mar the landscape.

The courts block reproductive choice,

Gay is a word we cannot say,

And the season is lost to background noise.

But far, far away from the winds of horror 

That blow across these lonesome plains,

From Israel and Gaza and the heartache in Ukraine,

A thread of spirit bids us come and toast the bleak midwinter,

Let the petty squabbles lie until they crack and splinter

The promise of a light in darkness and an end to mortal pain.

The reason for the season can be anything you deign.

Could be Hanukkah or Christmas, Kwanzaa or solstice,

The end game is warmth and a measure of bliss.

May you have light and love this Christmas and a Hanukkah to remember.

A Kwanzaa to be coveted, a December bathed in splendor.

May you bask in the flood of familial love and check your hatred at the door.

Bathe in the memories of Christmases past and those who have gone before.

Say a prayer for the soldiers fighting in the wars that scorch this earth,

.And the innocents whose only crime is, alas, their place of birth

A prayer for the homeless on this blessed day

The hungry broods searching dumpsters for food

The beggar on the corner in his rags and eccentricities,

Could but for the grace of God in fact be you or me

 

So tick off your many blessings, in the midst of all this busyness.

Take a pause just because, be mindful of your breath.

I wish you well this festive season, infinite hope and infinite joy,

A cherished memory, a precious bauble or a marvelous little toy,

A soft place to fall when you need to make a landing

A candle bright to light your night, snd a peace that passeth understanding.

-Bruce Potts

Copyright 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

FOR JUST ONE DAY OF JOY

FOR JUST ONE DAY OF JOY

For just one day of joy, they wait the whole year through,
Every little girl and boy and the child in me and you.
For the fat man in the red velvet suit who comes from a land of chill,
For the baby child in the manger who brings us all good will.

For one day of unbridled bliss, I would my kingdom give,
In the midst of this holly and ivy, a brand new way to live.
To kiss you 'neath the mistletoe, beloved man of mine,
To wake and find beneath the tree, a sparkle and a shine.

The bustling time of Christmas, the darkness lit by a vibrant star,
That twinkles in the eastern sky and lands right where we are.
The Christmas tree, the light displays, shine brightly like the moon,
The Grinches and the toy trains, the carolers with their tune.

The whole twelve days of yuletide charm, the partridge and the pears,
Can lift our spirits out of darkness, catch us unawares.
Five gold rings of these we sing, the ladies dancing, lords a leaping,
And in the manger sweet and sound, the Baby Jesus sleeping.
Let's not forget the menorrah and the charms of Hannukah,
The beauty of the Chrismon tree in the Christian sanctuary.
Those who love the charms of Kwanzaa, every bit as merry.

Heaven, it looks down and smiles, on every faith and every creed,
And stands forever steadfast, by us in our time of need.
For just one day of happiness, for just one day of love,
A blessed child, a virgin birth, or just a day of peace on earth,
A day where man he feels his worth and counts his lucky stars.
And smashes through the winter blues and their joyless prison bars.

Where memories live of Christmas gone, that in the human soul do stir,
The great and grand old story of the way that once we were,
When Santa Claus he smartly flew, with Rudolph and the earnest crew,
And NORAD tracked his every move across the heavens blue.
When the gay wrappings adorned the gifts that lay beneath the tree,
And no child was forgotten by the fat man from the great North Pole,
And every wish was granted, and what was broken was made whole.

Where the fire truck in my old hometown would scream throughout the neighborhood,
Kris Kringle waving from the back, magical and good.
The wreaths that hang upon the doors, the sweet aroma of the day,
The turkey and the dressing and the bounty sent our way.
A night that children seldom sleep and grown up children seldom weep.
Far too busy making plans with toys that coo and beep.
The toy trains and the rocket ships that on Christmas day do race,
The treats laid out for Santa, that leave without a trace.

For just one day of joy, they wait the whole year through,
Every little boy and girl and the child in me and you.
For Santa, for the Christ child, for a potpourri of reasons,
We pour the wine and celebrate the beauty of the season.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2012
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED