Saturday, November 22, 2014

Linda M. Crate- Three Poems

where is Christmas?

everyone seems to forget
that the reason for the
was and is Your son
as they stand in line at Walmart
fighting for the perfect
toy or gift for their
loved one
who would have rather had
a thoughtful and unique gift, anyway,
i sit here and observe them
headless chickens
all rebelling without a cause
seeming to forget Your
name as they
spit out Merry Christmas hastily
and shove a few dollars
into the salvation army bucket;
love and warmth devoid
of them as the
winter chill creeping in the atmosphere
and i wish i could stop this all
commercialism has gone too far
when even those who believe in Your name
have forgotten Your love,
and yet we're all to blame for letting it get
this far for letting a crock pot be
worth more than
someone's life the day after thanksgiving
or snatching a present right out of
the arms of someone
who may or may not be less fortunate than us
in a greed that many of us complain is
only in our politicians.

candles can be relit

even broken windows emit
you whisper to me
as i tell myself i am too broken, too tortured, too
sinful to deserve Your love;
even i can be used to further your
good in a world trapped
beneath the darkness—
i am not the sum of all of my failures to
you i have more worth than
and i remind myself just because i failed once
doesn't mean that i will keep on failing;
a candle can still shine another
even if it's blown out yesterday
should the wick still be
in tact—
and so i will continue to shine as the world
tries to rain down on my last spark
remembering Your words and Your truth
trying to allow myself to be the
person you need me
to be.

be real

people are always so fake
smiling when they don't mean it
these masks aren't healthy
they tell me at work
to put on a facade and act as if i'm
pleased when i'm not,
but that is not what You have
You have told us to be the light of the world
and yet even lights flicker off now and
You never told me to lie
told me to be truthful in such a way that
someone could feel Your love
through my words—
and so being nice through the aggravation
is okay,
but i don't think i should have to pretend
to be having a good day when
i'm not
why can't we share our brokenness with one
another? maybe then empathy
wouldn't be so devolved
everyone says they don't care but that's not the point
You wish for us to care for everyone and anyone
even the unloved,
and i think the best way to do that is to
be real.

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