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Each year we imitate the star over Bethlehem
And sing those haunting nativity songs
Remembering those days gone by
When parents were young and alive
When Christ was a living entity
Breathing miracles in the manger
And everything was all right with the world.
Each year we go back deeper into memory
Rummaging olfactory sensations,
Touching the almost hot baskets of cakes
And dogs salivating after every bark,
When the cathedrals resounded with eternity
Into the December frost of the belfry
And every kneeled sermon was lemon-fresh.
Each year we traverse afar
Looking for something we have lost
Through critical discourse, apostasy,
Or sheer loss of memory,
Now, it all comes back in departmental stores
The songs, the forebears, the cakes, the sermons
And whatever does not
Gets illumined with buntings and baubles. |
