Waiting in Advent

from w

1.

Truer than a Midsomer jigsaw

to guess and surmise motives,

the radio or television drama is the ‘now’,

one character seriously flawed,

others like us, ordinary, shielding friends.

There’s anticipation in the darkness

of a tragic outcome and it does come

as a climax of light flashes and gunshots

with blood in the coffee shop.

Shadows run,  men suited for battle

rescue men and women hostages

who could have been my friend, my family.

 

2.

An ocean of flowers, still wrapped in paper,

foil, cellophane, and letters in a child’s writing,

tributes for strangers, sharing grief,

in a communal swell of pain

as part of our human response

during Advent, waiting.

 

3.

Concerned by a backlash

Of separating ‘them’ from ‘us’

Someone was inspired to write

‘I’ll ride with you’

I’ll sit beside you on a train, protect you, 

stop the potential of insults

because your dress-code

marks you as strange, an enemy.

A church notice juggles the letters

to form a new message:

The Kingdom of God is like

‘I’ll ride with you.’

 

5. The story is retold, cyclic,

 in carol singing, without snow.

It’s midsummer for us yet we sing

‘In the bleak mid-winter’

and the perfect song ‘Silent Night’.

Though the trauma of a girl giving birth

is  hardly quiet at all.

 

6.

A dark sky with a contour of stars,

a backdrop for the tall luminous tree,

blue and green glass-like

reflects on rippling water.

Conjured by a clown

now admired as a symbol of hope.

We are waiting, despite major disquiet.