December 22, 2025

Indeed, I Wept

They celebrated the birthday

With understanding so inept,

Looking at gilded throne, fixtures,

And, indeed, Jesus wept.

'Tis a crude, barbaric setting,

Bearing silver spoons and knives out,

Branded goblets, bloodied pitchforks,

Grift poisoning the grub.

I recognize not any guests:

Fishermen float in the water,

Carpenters stopped at the gate,

Paupers needing papers.

Line of betrayers snake in,

Each jostling to get ahead.

I'm unsure whom to call out first

With no more mercy left.

Wine's more expensive than ever,

Bread forgotten and discarded.

Indulgence and extravagance:

One more nail in my heart.

For years I'd turn the other cheek,

Day shared with old Nicholas,

Overlook calendar mistake

And aim out of focus.

Yet none of that folly compares

To the whitewash by the callous,

The confiscation of customs

That robs its holiness.

The bash ended ere it begun.

'Cause while the organizers slept

I buried my head in my hands

And, indeed, I wept.