Hark!
It is hard to imagine
there are many angels
much inclined to descend
in all their glory, blazing
in the light of God's
fierce and abundant love,
to bring glad tidings unto,
say, the tired and harried
checkers working third
shift at Walmart with
their light-up reindeer
headbands and jingle bell
necklaces swaying as
they scan our cartloads
of temporary distraction.
It's hard to think that
any angel would appear
to any politician and say
unto them fear not
as they travel their divided
roads, setting their flocks
upon one another.
We seem to have worked
as hard as elves to make
an unlovable world,
thick with plastics and
urban sprawl, cheaper,
emptier, faster, distracted,
more covetous and blind,
and convinced our pain
is nothing more than gravy.
We look for reasons
not to love and not to find
any common cause with
anyone unlike ourselves,
as we sing love and joy
come to you and Hark!
the herald angel sings.
But we do want love, and
we want a world that loves,
and in our humble squalor,
we have the chance to be
the angels we wish to find.
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