the orphans in the storm and the
on the Christmas highways and byways
and the angels gloria in excelsis deo
from the loudspeakers in the snow
shop windows with poster paint stenciled
trees and berries all aglow and
all for you the gingerbread with the cinnamon buttons
and your frock entirely of velvet.
or the little match girl dressed in the gold
of the one kind word you could say you passerby
with errands to run elegant presents to stow
and the silver curling ribbons of the frost
across the panes and the race is won
she will never be warm.
in old stories she could
unlatch the dungeon
find freedom from curmudgeons feel
all the changes of heart one could wish for
and the heart's lone chapel
filled with the evergreen.
but outside those borderlands
we find in the world an immense pain
more than we could bear
individually beyond what
one would have thought possible
who would have thought possible
tears streaming like rain unto vast floods.
then let stories rainbow reign.
mary angela douglas 26 march 2017