For those of you
who never heard the angels sing
whose Christmas memories are not
holly-jolly
cozy sparkling lights
and come-and-get-it
gingerbread kitchens
For those of you who
avoid the perfect social media posts
and secretly cry over the
unrelenting heartwarming advertising
who grieve for that left out little kid
alone in a non-existent childhood
For those of you who
hid under the table as presents were thrown against walls
and screams drowned out echoed angel-bells
For those of you whose hair was pulled
and slaps made cheeks rosy
not carol-singing sleigh rides
or white-Christmas snow
For those of you who
were given whatever-gifts, second-rate, second-hand, second thought
or not
For those of you for whom
Santa never came, for whom Santa early on was a sad fairy tale
I want you to know something yet
I want you to know something still
Jesus was born that night in Bethlehem
born rejected even before birth
He gave up everything and came down here
to this stinking rotten prison yard
He lived in the margins
He loved along the edges
got kicked out of all the important-people clubs
laughed at, spit on, mocked
Yet, in the safe harbor of his heart
the flotsam and jetsam came to rest
the castaways were hugged and blessed
He died with a couple of major screw-ups
and loved them
to the end
and I want you to know something more
Jesus busted out of this death-prison cell
busted you out too
and he's living
and he's praying
and he's loving
you
right now on this lonely,
mournful Christmas morning
listen
you can hear the angels singing
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