There are magic illusions, Sweet hosannas, religious fantasies, Which emerge and recede With a sleigh of hand, A litany or an intonation: Even a perfume Or a crepe crumpled skirt Can do the wonder, Leading to the beleaguered tabernacle, The cloistered manger.
The enchantment matches The sweet supplication Of both instinct and inspiration grows After the adeste fidelis, After the general intercession, After the offertory of Jesu Rex admirabilis That jingles in velveteen offering bags Suspended from hardwood handles, After the choir’s heartfelt rendition That releases the residual Make-believe world of winter rituals With cards, silver buntings, evergreen trees, Cake ingredients, new apparel, And after the plaintive Alma redeptoris mater And the Gloria, in excelsis Deo!
The spell grows beyond The ecumenism of shared spirituality, Beyond denominational brotherhood, Beyond Judaic, Christian and Islamic affirmation, Beyond interfaith pluralism, Beyond laissez faire meltdown, recidivist terrorism, It extends beyond a sybaritic life Cluttered with memorabilia, Beyond the entreaties of words, music and silent orisons, Into a world of sortilege and sharing.
