POEM 352: BECAUSE IT'S CHRISTMAS

of myths and organized religion
of birth and rebirth, incarnation
we sip one and spit out the other,
embrace stale rhymes of jingled bells
and archive sweet melodies-
melodies to which our forebears jiggled waists
because it's Christmas?

days of festivals were scratched onto cave walls,
and imprinted on claypots,
in those times when masquerades raise the dust
of the fallen and the living
with chants soul thrilling,
now we are refugees in our own homes
waiting for crumbs from Santa Claus
because it's Christmas?

how soon we forget to remember that these myths 
shoved down the throats of those of old
have celebrated for millennia
long long before the council of Nicaea?

how soon we forget what emanates from goddesses of yore 
who symbolize fertility and sometimes whore, 
have brought forth saviors 
and modes of worship?

but we must see the need to treat virtue with a sacred touch
it's just another of many pagan holidays
a pause to rewind into the beauty of a new year

and we do well to not forget that our fate 
does not depend on sacraments and pontifications
but on how we can save the joy of life
and celebrate all humankind again
because it's Christmas and nothing more

may we remember to embrace and revive
customs archived by our naivety
and be reminded of where we came 
to be even when cultures and beliefs strive
for the sake of nativity

this is not a poem
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