Bauble poem by Iris Carden
A glass Christmas bauble, shiny and bright, encircled by glitter, reflecting the light. It hangs on the tree amid tinsel and lights, a strange commemoration of such a strange night. A young woman gave birth, homeless, in the gloom. Her poor tradie husband couldn't find them a room. The birth was attended by local working poor, but announced by angels singing a heavenly score. Later, faithful foreigners of another religion, came to bring gifts, calling the baby a king. But the rich and powerful of the day, saw him as a threat to get out of the way. The family had to flee their own country, to take their infant and become refugees, while the powerful at home tormented the poor, and took from them the children they bore. And strangely now we remember that night, with snow-covered scenes, and glitter and lights, we cover the pain, the danger and fear, with fantasy Christmas cards, full of bright cheer. And strangely we remember that tiny baby, not by helping the poor, homeless, or refugee, but by decorating the Christmas tree, and displaying wrapped gifts for all to see. A glass Christmas bauble, shiny and bright, encircled by glitter, reflecting the light. It hangs on the tree amid tinsel and lights, a strange commemoration, for such a strange night.
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Introspective thoughts inspired from such fragile glass. Beautifully done, Iris!