The bell comes before I’m ready--
as I move through moments,
I thought would hold.
It meets me in the middle of moving on
between forward motion
and memory.
It doesn’t call out.
It doesn’t demand.
It just waits,
a small opening
where I stop,
and let the moment be.
A child came with very little;
no wealth, no welcome.
Only a tenderness held in trust.
Love came without protection,
and it was not lost.
The bell doesn’t leave.
It waits.
I don’t have to move.
This Christmas;
I take a moment,
I hear it clearly,
I stay.
(3-5-7).
Silent night,
Starry solution,
Peacenik's hope, Christmas dawning.
In those days a decree went out, the world should be enrolled.
And all but few were unprepared for what God would unfold.
For God would take this world of sin and make it reconciled,
The Word would take on human flesh, be born as just a child.
From Galilee to Bethlehem went Joseph with his wife
Who carried safe within her womb the Giver of all life.
No inn was found with any room to shelter Jesus’ birth.
So born within a stable was the King of all the earth.
Out in the fields the shepherds stood and angels did appear.
And they proclaimed good news to all, there was no need to fear.
For in a manger lay the King wrapped up in swaddling clothes.
And from the multitudes a song of glory then arose.
Gloria! The angels sang. So, Gloria! We sing.
For in a lowly stable bare was born the Christ our King.
Glory to the Lord on high, His peace upon the earth.
Gloria! The angels sang to celebrate the birth.
In the beginning was the Word, through Him all came to be.
He came into this world of sin to set our spirits free.
In poverty the Christ was born. In poverty he lived.
He asked for nothing but our love and so our hearts we give.
Not too late,
Peace, goodwill mandate,
Nativity celebrate.
Star-dusts punctuate the dwindling daylight.
The moon enkindles the nooks of the skies.
Restless charcoal clouds yearn to be quiet.
The fog-clad blossoms still seek the sunrise.
As foretold by the mystics and sages
His advent is an act of upheaval.
He rewrites the history's ripped-up pages.
His strife is between the good and evil.
He pitches his tent among meek humans.
He blows as silent as the tender breeze.
Cosmos, into lustrous light, illumines.
Creatures, in adoration, bend their knees.
Creation, at his descend, stands astounded.
Times in timelessness stand suspended.
Nativity Bandhan
Stranger in a strange city.
Protect yourself.
Wear a mask.
Protect from whom?
One virus makes me foreign.
Unwanted, unnecessary and mean.
Suddenly I am an alien.
In the city alien, familiar city alien.
In my alien country.
An Island within the Country.
Feeling of shame, humiliation.
I realize the remoteness in me.
Muted, starved, exhausted.
My labour is what is wanted,
Not I.
Market-based labour market.
Daily wager, coolies,
Adhoc workers, contractual staff.
Long roads,
Sleeping rails
Killing fields.
Dancing death.
Fear of dying 'here'.
There should be four to carry.
'Why was I born?' feeling.
Blame poverty, blame the city.
Why don't 'they' suffer?
The rustic place which drove me out
builds the bandhan.
I know everyone.
No one will chase me out.
There or not there
I eat something all the time.
My mean labour earns me respect.
All are my bandhan
No man is foreign.
This is my nativity.
Sung to the tune of "Oh Little Town of Bethlehem"
Our infant school nativity,
Directed by Mrs. Page,
Was my first opportunity
To act upon the stage.
I always was an extrovert;
So that appealed to me.
My hopes and dreams of all the years,
An actor I would be.
I wanted to play Joseph,
‘Cos Mary was played by Joyce.
And, of all the little girls in the class,
She was my first choice.
And if I couldn’t be Joseph
And ride along with her.
I’d be a king with golden crown
And frankincense or myrrh
I practised every morning,
And every evening.
Imagining the audience applause
For Joseph or a king.
But when it came to casting,
It didn’t come to pass.
The part that Mrs Page gave to me
Was the back half of the ass.
But one day I’ll be famous,
And then I’ll marry Joyce.
The latest toast of theatreland
And all will know my voice.
I’ll invite all my friends to attend,
As I take centre stage.
They’ll be there in the front row.
But I won’t ask Mrs Page.
Where's that Bethlehem?
I toiled hard to find out that
It's right in my heart.
mary (a quiet yes) bows low
as light (soft as breath) spills into her womb—
a promise cradled in infinite space.
joseph’s hands (calloused & trembling)
grasp the weight of whispers:
holy. impossible. near.
caesar decrees, the world bends—
roads unravel like threads on a loom.
a city swells, heavy with strangers
searching for shelter,
for place,
for peace.
(no room)
(no room)
(no room)
until a manger beckons, humble as dust.
stars shiver—
their silver echoes fall to earth
to crown a child
wrapped in rags,
in glory.
shepherds (all elbows & awe) stumble in:
the sky split open,
angels singing of peace like rain.
their stories drip into silence,
hearts thudding in wonder.
the child stirs.
and the world breathes anew—
eternity held
in the curve of His tiny hand.
All was well with heaven. Peace flowed like crystal water streams.
Cries from the earth filled the ears of the Holy Trinity
Love for the humans flooded in them as they heard their screams.
The Son consented to come down, waiving his divinity.
Mary said, Amen. Joseph accepted the divine call.
The time of long waiting of souls seemed to come to an end.
At a night when the earth experienced heavy snowfall
The moon and stars witnessed liberation slowly descend.
Troubling no one, like a silent comrade, he came and dwelt
Between the tired spouses, who travelled long, seeking the Lord
The nations heard angel choirs and, in adoration, knelt.
Blessed by his birth, birds and beasts too sang in one accord.
This world will strike, he knew, mock, and, at the end, crucify.
Fulfilling his goal, shouldn't he, yet, ascend to the sky?
Poor Mrs.Lotty became so confused,
But because of her age she's excused.
She adores decorating.
But what she is creating,
Has the neighborhood somewhat amused.
On Halloween she put up her trèe.
There were ghosts in the nativity!
Santa wore a pilgrim hat,
The tree topper was a bat!
None could fault her creativity.
The wreath made of fall leaves on the door,
Was decked out and like never before.
Pumpkin, snowman, and turkey,
Seemed to me a bit quirky.
But it was festive, that is for sure!
You try to make them civilized and grown-up,
but the words are infants,
they want to crawl around and yell for a bit.
You know that an eye is upon you.
watching you in that whelping room
where creation rearranges molecules
into a planetary system of speech
made of matchsticks and glue.
A poem is about to be splashed,
onto a speeding window of light.
Logic and reason must first
bash their bulbous heads together,
until their mechanical, self-winding brains
fall out.
The collective humming of incubators,
begins to lipread your silence.
A process similar to hand washing.
Eventually a swaddled indigenous form,
unwraps itself,
it begins to walk upright.
Matchsticks and glue
form readable fragments.
You begin to hope,
that someone inside that watching eye
will name what you have done -
even attempt,
to explain it to you.
It came at the right time
Just before my fragile heart
Was about to burst with the largely
Unnecessary stress of work
Some things have to be completed
The boss's demands
Wielding power with no
Consideration for the small man
Or the small woman
(not so small now actually)
I think we are both tired
But rules is rules
They say "it's the journey,
Not the destination"
But the destination can be
Important too..
Anyway we made it
It's been a rocky road
Travelling via the starlight
Resting when the heat overwhelms
There is so much to look forward to
So much.
I sense it's very nearly time..
I just have to find us a bed for the night
Jolly Home Is where
Family members and friends
For the Holidays.
Christmas time
Joy is in the air
In full force.
Holy Home
Love is in the air
In full throttle.
For the Holidays
Everything is unblemished
For Humanity.
Copyright © December 2023, Hébert Logerie, all rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
a maiden from Nazareth
fully human,never divine
in a stable did confine
brought forth a child-
human,Jesus,saviour..mine
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