CHRISTMAS ADVENT AT THE FRENCH CHATEAU
[A Raucous Season of Festive Delights]
The barbaric slaughter began amongst the chicken wings, the bawdy
glitter, cinamon cider, and ball balls hung upon a poor dead fir tree
in the chilly doorway, far from the woods, waiting for its draped tinsel,
micro plastics and faery lights, after six long years under starry nights.
None desired to eat the 'parson's nose', because it was dead hen's "arse",
but there was always the one merrier face, of raucous abysmal laughter,
who would shock the hungry crows down from the tree lined fountains
by sinking in his teeth into her corpse and squirting out her festive oils.
Poor dear hens, upside down, flapping and struggling in conveyor belts,
their frail wings struggling for flight, back into the forest undergrowth
or places of protection and basic kindness, that they have never known,
having been forsaken, the moment they broke from a tender egg of life,
their innocent bright eyes, close to Christ, in readiness for the sacrifice.
I view my surroundings through a carnal lens, each glimmer of faith fails
because of things unseen, the empathy with worldly suffering engulfs me
and I set my sights to sail my fragile ship, upon its oceans of cruel terrors,
leaving Jesus Christ back at the lighthouse, with his grace and eternal love
reaching towards me with open arms, already knowing when I will return,
dismal and broken, having covered my soul with the blood of the earth. |
