"Silent night,"
You murmur as harried shoppers
Bustle past you
Worrying about presents.
"Is it really?"
You stroke the beautiful
Fragile gifts.
Fragile gifts to heal fragile relationships.
You pass through churches
Filled with the same stress as
Harried shoppers.
"Holy night?"
What's so holy
About the strain and stress.
There's no snow tonight
And it does nothing to heal your
Confused soul.
But the biting winds fight your path.
A little child tugs on your sleeve.
Her mother frets
Her father worries
But her wide eyes are filled with wonder.
"Merry Christmas!"
Her little voice chirrups.
You kneel before her,
The wind no longer cold.
"Merry Christmas. It's a joyful
New Year, is it not?"
She smiles, suddenly shy,
But it's enough.
You brush the boughs of a
Christmas tree
And the radio plays songs
Of Christ's coming.
"Stille Nacht."
You murmur.
"It is really."
On this glorious Christmas Eve
Surrounded by the candlelight
And the peaceful faces
In the beauty of the little church,
You breathe deeply.
"Heilige Nacht."
Such a holy night.
