Before you take to the shops,
the public houses, the clamour
of glitz, come home. Step out
of the swell into a room where you
can hole up with the howl
of your hurt and cradle
it close, holding still, until
you can let it go with you, back
out into the cold and the frozen.
Let it show you how to love glamour,
and tinsel: only as topping. The promise
of Christmas is not a treasury.
Frankinsense and myrrh come later, as gifts
brought in by the wise. Now it is time
to be humble, to be true, and so
to be delivered, to be borne anew.
May the promise of the season deliver for you, and yours, this year — and all the way through 2016. Thank you for being here for another year and letting my words and ideas into your life.