January in Worcester
© 2017 Peter Young
Around the corner stands a cassocked choir
Rejoicing far too soon for Christmas day,
The tune a dirge: a manger far away –
You make escape, their singing is quite dire.
That birth no longer private, as voyeur
This is no place to dally or to pray,
But worship Father Christmas in his sleigh
All buttoned up in red and white attire,
Surrounded by his reindeer, bells a-jingle
All harnessed, earthbound, blocking up the street
Creating traffic chaos. People mingle
Much closer than they’d ever want to meet
Those perfect strangers – that’s unless they’re single,
Seeking love to make their lives complete.
How shopping clutters up their true desire.
Their passions loosed, they spend each shortening day
Exploring every store, in their essay
To find the perfect gift. We must admire
The doggedness of each determined buyer,
The money god they never disobey;
It’s next year’s bills that they will have to pay,
Regretting all that stuff they did acquire.
Step back to see this from a different angle:
It’s letting go that circumvents defeat.
No good can come of nerves a-jingle-jangle
Or traipsing round – that hurts both head and feet.
This Christmas lark – it’s just one bloody wangle.
Sans meaning: it’s a mash up – bittersweet.
So tune into your heart; you can’t deny a
Twitchy inkling something’s not okay.
You’ve lived all year in work, in love, in play,
So take a pause. Come closer to the fire
And tell yourself, “Right now it’s time to try a
-nother way of being.” What d’you say?
Imbibe this Christmas gift, not led astray
By baubles; aspire for things much higher.
That tawdry stuff, it’s just not worth a candle,
Don’t fall for fads that make you seem effete.
To change your life you must turn the handle,
Start the motor, be in the driving seat.
The Mystery unfolds, and something grand’ll
Spread peace and joy throughout Life’s balance-sheet.
© 2016 Peter Young