Crap you get for Christmas 

so much processed sugar

And  make up, bath soaps

Festive pjs

You name it–

Well meaning people trying

To fill a void with empty giving 

Insulin shots and loneliness

To gap a story so unsparing 

God born in a barn

(Is bad enough)

But what is up with putting a

Newborn in a trough?

Trough?  Your voice rising to the question

Why a trough?

No downy blankets here 

Most unlikely place for an infant 


Amidst the crap



That is where so many ordinary children are born

And die amidst the squalor of a loveless world

A Light shines for all of us

Not an easy path 

From dung to gold

But more like alchemy

Tiny child born

To make treasure

Out of all our crap.

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