I have a tradition of posting a poem or meditation for Christmas. Here is this year's.
I try to bless you with words on Christmas.
I try to bless you with words on Christmas.
I try to look beneath the wrapping and ribbon
And remember the humble wood and straw.
I try to think of how it is that a baby marked
By a star held for a while the hope of God.
And the Love, infinite and fathomless of
the Creator. But this year, these deaths,
This persistent anti-blackness does not allow
For blithe silence, punch and cookies, while
Black people die in the streets. Rachel weeping
for her children is this. For they are each,
Michael, Tamir, Antonio, Raynisha, Trayvon-
Mary at the foot of the cross is their mother.
And white privilege is the wise men who say:
We have come to the right place at the right time!
I try to bless you with words on Christmas.
The holiest words I have are their names.
I try to bless you with words on Christmas.
I try to bless you with words on Christmas.
I try to look beneath the wrapping and ribbon
And remember the humble wood and straw.
I try to think of how it is that a baby marked
By a star held for a while the hope of God.
And the Love, infinite and fathomless of
the Creator. But this year, these deaths,
This persistent anti-blackness does not allow
For blithe silence, punch and cookies, while
Black people die in the streets. Rachel weeping
for her children is this. For they are each,
Michael, Tamir, Antonio, Raynisha, Trayvon-
Mary at the foot of the cross is their mother.
And white privilege is the wise men who say:
We have come to the right place at the right time!
I try to bless you with words on Christmas.
The holiest words I have are their names.