This year I am compelled to ask a question similar to that asked by the youngest child at the Jewish Passover Seder: “Why is this Christmas (night) different from all other Christmases (nights)?” It feels different, more significant, more laden with meaning. It calls for more introspection and reflection. Too many mornings I awaken with dread as if there will never be another Christmas
defined by love for all, peace in understanding, and hope for a free and joyful future. The darkness seems overwhelming. I look for a star in the sky to guide my way. I understand the need to find a course I can follow which will lead me to a simple stable where a humble family seeks shelter. I long for those around me to awaken to the need to overcome the darkness descending on my country, on my world. Crass consumerism can only mask the need for a short time while we search for something bigger than ourselves, to build and belong to a community ruled by fairness which operates within the bounds of law, where each soul has equal value and worth.
Autocrats, fraudsters, and wealthy oligarchs are not new. Courts which give them immunity are new. It is as if I now live among the crowd who shouted, “Give us Barabbas! ” I see that young babe in a manger in a cave or stable and wonder at man’s inhumanity to man, his disdain for women and children, his abuse of the very earth itself. Making a “buck”, to retain power and control, create more darkness over the earth. WE are the Light. The Light dwells within us. This Christmas I celebrate a birth of a babe who taught me this. I celebrate by standing in the Light, against the darkness. I celebrate by spreading Light.
annarino writes 
FIGHTING WORDS
Poetry has fled.
Art hides in plain sight
behind clouds of flame,
beyond winds of change,
before plutocrats take the stage,
no longer waiting behind the scenes
which hide their rage.
Words have lost all meaning
when facts go unchecked
flung too fast to sustain truth
and belief in its power to right wrongs
for the weak and the poor,
tossed aside by courts which cower
fearing loss of wealth and power.
Which words are safe when lies procure
the party in power’s silent vote to score
total control of each life, each thought,
each breath threatened by dirty schemes
to pollute the earth, water and air?
Words cannot be spoken, claimed by death
of the rule of law.
No words exist to describe the depravity
some of us saw
as our words lay dying
first inside
then outside
where meaning can be lost.
Words remain frozen in heavy frost,
weighed down by cold hearts
and dead souls
seeking total control.
Freedom resides in words
which too often remain unsaid.
Words too softly spoken to wake
those asleep, escaping, all hopes dead.
Too few words of truth must compete
with an onslaught of unchecked lies.
I listen and watch, lost in thought.
I write and I plead against what we have wrought.
Poetry, I fear, carries too-little weight.
Poetry, perhaps, has waited too late
to escape the threat when so many lies
have buried the truth for power and greed.
Money has always been the creed
clothed in religion and faith
which grants God’s grace
to those who deserve to see His face
on dollar bills and hung on towers.
False gods seek our praise as they devour
a country whose best citizens
refuse to use their power to remain free,
and would rather lose their democracy.
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