A long time ago
There was a pregnancy
Out of wedlock
That drove a young girl
In her time and place
To run away from home
To have her baby in a barn
Because there was no space
For her
In the comfortable places
Where people were accepted.
Because she was a refugee.

A long time ago
Her partner stayed with her
Throughout everything
Even though
She wasn’t carrying his baby.

A long time ago
That child,
When he grew up
Became a radical
Who disagreed
With the politics of the time
Who stood up
For the least of these
For the oppressed folks
In a time when to do this
Was a revolution in itself

The child
When he grew up
Was kind to people
No matter who they were
Or where they came from
Or however they struggled
That child
When he grew up
Has a sex worker for his partner
And that child
When he grew up
Argued against
Unkindness, violence
And instead
He comforted people
And said that in the end
The universe
Was going to catch them.
That things would turn out alright
No matter what
Because everyone was loved
If not by one another
Then by himself.

He was technically born
In the heat of the summer
And what we celebrate
In the dead of winter
In the cold
Has older roots
So old they’re almost forgotten

This time
Honors the darkest days of the year
With light and feasting
Carries us through
Keeps hope alive
Worships the sun
With blood and bone

In ways we remember
In our own traditions
Not pale reflections
Only different,
Changed, evolved.

The lights on the fir tree
And the smell of pine
The oven that warms the kitchen
From early until late
Preparing celebratory food
And the connections between people
Who’ve come home.

Perhaps in the cold
We stayed together
As a bigger group
To stay warm, and alive
During the coldest time
When predators roamed

And now the predator
Is too small to see
Has invisible teeth
And it goes for the lungs
And it takes us down slowly…
And it goes for the elderly and the weak.

So this time
We must, for the most part
Not band together
Against the cold and the dark
And something very old and sacred
Is honored clumsily
Through electric blue screens
Over the tops of masks

But when we wear masks
That cover out faces
We are forced
If we look at each other
To look into one another’s eyes
For maybe the first time
In a very long time.
And it’s harder
Not to recognize the humanity
In everyone
It’s harder not to be kind
When you have to look
Into somebody’s eyes.

And kindness

Like the refugee’s baby reminded us
Like the prostitute’s partner reminded us

Like the advocate for the downtrodden reminded us

Like the child of the universe reminded us

Is a revolutionary thing.
Merry Christmas.