Christmas 2014

The terrible tragedy in George Square yesterday makes us hold each other more dearly. This is a short poem I wrote about my son's Nativity, a week ago.

Primary Two Nativity  

When my son needs encouraged again

to go to school, I mention the play.

He says he is tired of singing

and tired of dinging 

but when I see the row

of tea-toweled shepherds

holding triangles high

I scan for him, lost without his blonde hair 

and in the micro seconds it takes

to recognise his face (there!)

my throat catches and I am falling again,
comet-like, whooshing with love
and he might as well be Jesus,

born anew to me each day.

-C