Waiting in Advent
Truer than a Midsomer jigsaw
to guess and surmise motives,
the radio or television drama is the
one character seriously flawed,
others like us, ordinary, shielding
There’s anticipation in the darkness
of a tragic outcome and it does come
as a climax of light flashes and
with blood in the coffee shop.
Shadows run, men suited for battle
rescue men and women hostages
who could have been my friend, my
An ocean of flowers, still wrapped
foil, cellophane, and letters in a
tributes for strangers, sharing grief,
in a communal swell of pain
as part of our human response
during Advent, waiting.
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
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:
Kingdom of God is like
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
is hardly quiet at all.
A dark sky with a contour of stars,
a backdrop for the tall luminous
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.