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Poetry Pleases: Christ, His Mass

Arthur Gilliland finds exactly the right words for this Christmas Eve.

Footsteps crunching on the church path, iron frosted;
Stars in the clear, cold sky, displaying eternity;
Welcoming light from the aged, oak-doored arch;
And, from within, the palpable excitement of a Christmas night
That could be held, wrapped and kept safe from one year to the next.
Many, many Christmas nights built a store of memories.
Long ago, the child enjoyed a simple but warmly welcomed time.
Now, that child a child no more, holds memory's span so precious
They will not fade, dissolve, but stay fresh remembered,
Warming the heart, brightening the soul.
The Christmas church still rings with joyful songs;
Glistens with richly-lighted tree that reminds us of The Light;
Quietly reflects and prays to the One whose night we celebrate;
The One whose birth brings hope to a fractured, troubled world.


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