We don’t see angels any more.
Well, except for the Hollywood kind.
But those are pale, pitiful things
Talking of “peace” and “love”
Without ever mentioning
The Prince of Peace.
When they meet us at the manger
They proclaim the cute, adorable baby
In the company of the wise men
And Santa Claus
But fail to warn us He came with a sword
That would pierce even His own dear mother.
No, we don’t see angels any more
For we are realists!
We know that matter matters
And miss the truth that lies
Before, and after, and yes, behind.
No-one walks on water now
For we are all more convinced
Of the power of gravity
Than the power of God.
The poor go unfed
For we know that there is too little food
In our few small loaves
And a couple of puny fish.
And should we climb Mount Tabor
We’d see rocks and the vista
While Moses and Elijah walked off
Unnoticed
Shaking their heads.
Oh, my dear, sweet Jesus
Put the mud in my eyes
That I may see clearly,
For I am also blinded
By this so-solid world.
thoughtfulspirituality 