The Stable – ( Christmas 2018 )

stood for over a century      
yet remained intact, aged-old –        
it’s timber cracked, pallid.        
       
Scarcely any planks covered        
the loft – broken remnants        
of scattered living adorned the floor.        
       
Moonlight dove channels        
through walls – bridle and bucket        
listless amid their stalls.        
       
In a corner, something faded        
tints barely legible – blue        
color-washed grey, maybe.        
       
Plastic people in worship –        
backs bent with expectancy:        
Mary, Joseph, but no Jesus.        
       
They were numbed in grief        
surviving weathered elements –        
yet, undiminished in message.        
       
Time can alter a course in Life        
despite good deeds or intentions –        
commends present to uncertainty.          
       
But, for those who believe          
Christmas is a symbol of Love        
regardless of change;          
       
who diligently hold space        
despite circumstance, crooked        
spines, or time-passages –        
       
are blessed with faith:        
the substance        
of things hoped for,        
       
evidence of things unseen;        
something only received        
through ardent belief:        
       
what our solar plexus       
knows to be truth        
in the face of absence.        
~