Never Mind What the Angel Said

Never mind what the angel said, perhaps she was right to be afraid - beaten to death in the corner by weak and insecure men with unconcealed animosity toward contemporary society, contemptuous men taking revenge for fifty, sixty years of perceived transgressions…

…a thousand sons of bitches, painfully stubborn and unwilling to release the smoke of their illusions…

…maybe call the police - if you think they could help, as if they would help. They’re bastards too. Visualize it. Check the numbers. You know how this goes. Aces. Sure as the sun, they won’t come. 

…you can hear them screaming in the street, firing their guns into the darkened skies. Be not afraid? Maybe I am, a little - when hate is not enough for their enemies and death is too much for my friends. 

Merry Christmas, I Suppose

 

She stood three people in front of me at the gas station convenience store with her purchases. She had a great many things to buy and the clerk ringing her up must have been new; the transaction took a long time and this irritated the others standing in line. We were all eager to be on our way to wherever we were headed that Christmas Eve. 

I wanted only to pay for my gas and my coffee but her purchases included: 

 33 lottery tickets 

 3 liters of Hawkeye vodka 

 4 bottles of peppermint schnapps 

 6 cartons of menthol cigarettes 

 A burrito 

 2 antiperspirants 

 4 packs of grape bubblegum 

 A banana 

 13 AAA batteries 

 A pint of chocolate milk (past its expiration date…)

 A pine scented air freshener 

 2 bottles of Pepto Bismol 

A bottle of ibuprofen 

 And A box of 12 prophylactics (pine scented) 

Someone was having a merry Christmas, I suppose.

Eventually she completed her transaction and the line moved forward. I paid for my gas and coffee and went back to my car so I could continue the exhausting eight hour drive home. As I left, I passed her again. She was outside screaming into her cell phone, “What do you mean she gave you an STD for Christmas? What the hell are you talking about?” 

Merry Christmas, I suppose.

The Lord Bless and Keep You - a blessing for Christmas Day

 This Christmas morning I've written an arrangement of the Aaronic blessing (Numbers 6: 24 - 26) to share with you all. May the Lord bless you.

May the Lord bless you 
and may the Lord keep you.

May the Lord lift his countenance upon you
and give you peace.

May the Lord make his face
to shine upon you
and be gracious 
unto you.

One Moment of Rage

 

It was one moment of rage like a fire in a life spent burning. It was a moment of blazing heat when the learned Orientals came into his royal chamber. One moment of panic. But the grey faced librarians had found the information that had sent the magi on their way to the slumbering Bethlehem suburb. One more moment of uncontrollable passion. Now he was wide awake in his darkened hideaway. Safe in his private recluse.

“Find the woman,” he told them. “Find the child.” And he’d sent them on their way. One moment of rage, the next was extinguished and quiet. Silent. Jaws clenched, shoulders tense. Fists balled into tightly curled fists. Nervous and fearful. Angry. But now he was relaxed. He could breathe.

The moment was broken by a knock on the door as he sat in his rocking chair drinking gin and mulled wine by the fireplace. Self-satisfied as any king should be. A king of courage by Roman appointment. Captured culture and captured loyalty were his by right, by rule. A knock on the door and all the hurt and horror rushed back. Memories of all the murdered. He looked stunned and confused towards Bethlehem and saw the flames in the distance. He smiled when he smelled the smoke. Visible vapors and heavy smoke and the smell of burning wood and tar and plastic. He could feel the heat from his balcony. And the screams. He could hear the screams. His men of might would handle the rest.

Another knock at the door and his face puckered. Soured with fear. He preferred his own company. Others were unfailingly irksome. Out there in the rural canyons and crowded urban streets were people who deserved nothing better than the lash and the wire. They deserved what they would get. Mortify the flesh of everyone, he thought. Everyone.

The knock came again, more insistent now. One of the fools hammering on the boards. Incompetent irritation. A voice came through the panels. “Sir, they have not returned. They have gone another way.” Herod pulled his privacy curtain closed and pulled at his beard. One moment of renewed rage like fire anew.

The Fires of Winter (a new Christmas Carol)

 I wrote this short little carol today as I delivered mail. I heard the melody in the wind-chimes hanging at one of the first houses on my route and the song developed throughout the course of the day. 

The fires of winter keep the cold away.
Long is the night, short is the day. 
We will bless the Lord because he came to save 
and because the fires of winter keep the cold away. 

The fires of winter keep the wolves at bay.
All through the night we can hear them say, 
"You should bless the Lord because he came to save
and because the fires of winter keep the wolves at bay."

The star of Christmas came to guide the way.
Shining at night for magi on the way. 
We will bless the Lord because he came to save 
and because the star of Christmas came to guide the way.