Corona Christmas
twiglets embrace as thorns and flowers
prickly wreath draped on a resilient head
a cross road for mankind in lonesome eyes
searching Golgotha for everlasting kindness
betrayed forsaken for some lousy shillings
sacrificed by his own father for the cause
Mother Mary weeping undocumented in pain
for her immaculate son conceived by God
all will be for good her counsellor insisted
post-traumatic stress comes out in the wash
while the dirty loincloth soaked up the blood
draped in ragged clouts screaming despair
the nails went deep into the wry conscience
shadowed in the fading sun at murky dusk
as Pontius Pilate scratched his piles in vain
get it over with I need rest and the bathroom
this is the end of all suffering some thought
as the stench of vomit and foul evacuation
failed the prophesy of meeting up with Buddha
no figs for Jesus only metallic taste in his mouth
could have at least hanged him with a noose
would have kicked away and turned the tables
in a last show of resilience for sadistic killers
who even took the tools of a death with dignity
fast backward a few decades onto Christmas
in a mangled manger and forward over time
the decay of so-called glorious civilization
crusades crushed peace and nuclear bombs
the Holocaust and genocidal might of power
famines mine fields poppies on marble tombs
air raids drones destruction in the name of what
star-wars self-righteous mindless devastation
and yet the halo of passion and compassion
stands in stark belligerent juxtaposition of
passion faith unbroken belief and blessings
while Santa delivers chocolates and mince pies
this time corona lingers over isolated folks
and all we worry about is a bloody face mask
and a bit of sanitizer on squeaky clean hands
perspective I need to shout brothers and sisters
I lost real human beings in the crematoria
my father advanced to Stalingrad and hell
Mom sifted through the rubble of Dresden
and I sit sheltered by a fireplace of warmth
I may not decorate the tree with myrrh and candles
don't savour Black Friday and the empty melodies
in supermarkets and gift shops under lockdown but
even an ardent atheist can see that there is a message
of the story of Calvary Coventry Bagdad and
the last supper with a full belly where I reside
I call it blasphemy hypocrisy and self-indulgence
to moan about some restraint during Covid Christmas
Copyright © Kai Michael Neumann | Year Posted 2020
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