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Carl Stevens' Journal: A Christmas Poem

a child wakes up before the sun
and before you know it, the day's begun...
mike's got his xbox, jane's got her bike,
and by ten o'clock they're out of sight...
and that's when the day finds a different voice,
it has nothing to do with girls and boys,
it has nothing to do with presents and trees,
chocolate or pies or wine and cheese...
with sledding or skating or jumping rope...
today has everything to do with hope.
christmas is the candle this nation needs
when ferguson cries and brooklyn bleeds...
can we put down our guns and get on our knees
and pray for some semblance, some fraction of peace...?
can we gather for something that's greater than hate?
can we find the "united" in united states?
can we find in our souls a bright sacred sight
that has no color: not black, not white,
something armed with forgiveness and wrapped in love,
as strong as an ocean, as threatening as a dove.
can we cut away logs of suspicion inside
and forget about the twigs in our neighbors' eye?
the baby born on this day to mary, his mother,
grew up to say, simply, "love one another."
beyond this day's hustle and bustle and fuss
can we find the son of god in all of us?
before we start sinking in racial quicksand,
can we remember how this day first began?
can we resolve in our hearts to be less bitter
can we find in a christmas prayer something better,
can we just get away from hate's slippery slope
and be born, on this day, in a manger of hope?

Listen to Carl's poem:

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