© 2007-2009 John Thornburg
Christmas poems from years past
Silent Night (2002)
Which silence will we choose?
Will it be the silence of awe,
the quiet so intense that the voice of God,
the barely audible yet penetrating sound of grace,
is all that can be heard?
Will it be the silence that comes
when nothing else matters,
when life is entirely focused,
when the senseless finally becomes plain?
Or will it be the silence of fear,
the drugged silence of submission to what is,
the dreadful silence when que sera, sera
is all we know how to say
and everything matters except what matters most?
Will it be the silence which follows miracle,
or the silence which signals resignation?
Will it be the silence which follows the angels' song,
when uncontrolled joy is not far behind,
or the silence which follows Herod's scheming;
the silence of being mesmerized by evil's icy grin?
Choose, O people of God.
Choose the silence of awe.
Your Faith Has Made You Well (2004)
Her son was heard to say,
“Your faith has made you well”
when people sought him out
because they felt the hell
of torment and despair.
From whom did that truth come
if not from Mary’s voice,
when she rehearsed the tale
of why she was the choice
to bear the promised One?
The courage in her “Yes”
was bold by any gauge.
She lived in poverty
a pawn of Roman rage,
yet faith had made her strong.
What is our Christmas work
if not to pause, and give
our richest thanks to God
for faith like hers, and ask
for courage for our day?
If Christmas Is All Red and Green (2005)
If Christmas is all red and green,
with satin bows
and evergreen;
with everything exactly right,
the perfect meal
and candlelight;
then Christmas is a thing we birth,
a month of stress
disguised as mirth,
a time when all we know for sure:
we have to get
the gift du jour.
But if there is another way
Lord, make it plain;
show us today.
Reveal your love all wrapped in flesh,
the holy child,
divine largesse.
Announce once more with angels’ voice
that peace on earth
is still your choice.
Until the Music of Her Breath Returns (2006)
Last night she slept,
her steady breath was music to her mother’s ears.
Tonight she cannot rest.
Her world, as splintered as her bed,
has come apart.
The hate that rained down on her home
has flooded every street.
But God, who weeps when hopes collapse,
is piloting the saving boat,
and God will hold the restless child
until the music of her breath returns,
and peace, shalom, salaam,
resides in every home.
