Friday, November 8, 2013

To the Fellowship of the Uncertain, at Christmastime

by Jen Hunt, from the archives
A response to Andrew Sullivan’s “When Not Seeing is Believing”
TIME article October 2, 2006

If you had suggested
A season or a lifetime ago
I should simply
Strawman the Straw Child
Hallow hollow musings and
Rock an empty cradle
In the name of Peace on Earth
I might have nibbled.

But this is anno Domini
And so being I have resolved that
Though my mother has died
And all the stars have shifted
Despite everything and without Prozac
It is neither suspect nor silly to hum Joy to the World
In earnest if not in tune
In the frozen middle of December
Because of a little walnut of a Christ child
In a shoebox-sized crèche
Probably the smallest trimming in the whole living room
The piece I almost forgot
Because of the matter about
Where the tree would go
What color lights to hang on it this year
And how many cords one outlet will tolerate
Before a fuse blows and clocks
Need resetting
So easily forgotten
The fake red amaryllis just placed
Had to be moved
Off the side table
To make room for it--
That little Intrusion who
Split time

In two
To mend our renderings
Call me crazyreligiouszealotchristfollower
But please,
Fear not

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