Sunday, December 24, 2017

nativity

under the overpass 
huddled in a pile 
of squalid blankets
tired and dirty and low
through the desert they came
fleeing the ones who would
murder their children
and so here they are 
on a cold December night
with no where else to go
no wise men to aid them
no gifts at their feet laid
this nativity different 
but somehow the same 
unless men grow kinder
the ending also different
but also unchanged

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