On Christmas Eve
A man goes up onto a pulpit
and makes a speech.
He’s done this same speech for as long as anyone can remember;
it’s good enough that no one bothers
to ask him
to write a new one.
I look to my right and see my mother
and my father
we still wear our coats;
we can’t be late
for the guests to come
to our house later.
I look to my right;
there’s a friend, and another
and a small child who plays with an unlit candle
Ben beatboxes and giggles through a hymn
His smile is infectious
But his sister is nowhere to be seen
Neither is a young man named Asher;
he never seemed the religious type.
He’s probably off doing something important,
more important than lighting a few candles
for a baby
born two-thousand years ago.
The flame throws a golden pall over the church.
The fire represents hope, says the preacher.
I came to the conclusion that I agree
As I zipped up my coat
Zipped out the aisle
And into the cold.