Charity Begins Where Interest Ends

Charity Begins Where Interest Ends
Charity begins where interest ends,
Having little interest but in giving,
Removing self from self, that there be space
In which a much-loved guest might feel at home.
So might one find delight, though ravens rend
The unembroidered fabric of one's being:
Miracle of unrequited grace,
A wave of wonder welling up from stone,
Singing as it breaks of selfless grieving.
Cheer Is Not What You'd Expect from Christmas
Cheer is not what you'd expect from Christmas:
Headaches are more like it, lack of sleep,
Raw nerves, rough words, waits to make you weep,
Irritable hours, days, intense, relentless.
So much money, time, so many dreams
Tied to one quick wanton winter's morning,
More an orgy than a merry dawning,
A ritual divorced from what it means.
Still, each year the love within it gleams.
Christmas Is a Holiday for Friends
Christmas is a holiday for friends,
However they may be, or not, related.
Remember that the three wise kings were strangers
In search of one remote, uncanny dream.
So may we all be far more than we seem,
Together bound for dark and haunting changes,
More lovely for the loves we have created
Along the lonely paths from means to ends,
Stumbling towards that star of Bethlehem.
Christmas Is a Time of Little Time
Christmas is a time of little time.
How we get there is a mystery.
Racing madly mall-to-mall, we climb
Into fields of sunlit harmony.
Shopping, cooking, clearing walks and yards,
Trimming house and tree while working, too;
Making phone calls, wrapping, writing cards,
As all worn out we do what we must do
So that this day of joy might joy renew.
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