eagle’s flight – Christmas Comes – 12/9/14.

Ah, Christmas, the time of year that brings tears to my eyes for the beauty of carols played and sung by a choir. It brings tears to my eyes for the dull never ending hatreds that tend to shoot first and listen later. The joy of family gathered, playing together, expectant of good things. The heartache of homeless souls forced to abandon the only home they know being told to “move along”.

Ah to find the prayers to see past our brokenness to the love and hope that lies beneath and above all things and begin to love and hope just a little more, like I am loved by the God who sees past my brokenness, and shows me grace beyond my hurt.

Christmas Comes


Is Love come down
buried in a promise kept

tucked away in a dim lit corner
spoken quietly
negligent of power and convention
it came with a powerful
shouted invitation
which few heard
or bothered to notice

Christmas comes
insistent beneath power’s control
steady in a few
walking love
through conflict’s inattention

Christmas comes
buried In trappings
of busy and bustle
which love pokes
and joy is birthed
yet again
in those who stop to see  and wonder
at its growth beneath
the winter grass
of busy-ness as usual


About Clark W Johnson

I am a poet, interested in using poetry to explore my interactions with the spiritual. I find poetry captures tension, paradox and flow well enough so I can hold experiences at arms length and reflect on them from multiple vantage points. As I walk deeper with my God, I'm finding such a record invaluable for myself, and I find that pieces and parts touch others as well. I love and long for more points of contact along those lines.
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