(A very different Christmas story)

Freedom is now another takeaway item,
grabbed as a side to an order
barely thought through.
Like a phantom dish, hovering
around the kitchen, elusive, evasive
to the touch, but
greedily clung to when gotten.
Never the main dish,
it morphs into whatever we want:
salvation, security, a new story…

On the afternoon of the Calling,
they´d heard of a new baptism,
the brilliant cold waters
swelled with throngs, waiting for the dip.

Far away in a classy cement tomb,
declassified messages revealed a different interpretation:
they knew it was even more dangerous, magical, in fact,
held together by slender threads
of yearning and a need to breathe free.

Sensing the illegitimacy of this,
they manipulated the intelligence, &
sent a crazy set of three black-clad agents
to assess the situation
& terminate if necessary.

They witnessed an amazing sight:
no celebrations
along the cobbled streets.

It was just a family needing a place to stay.

Questions remained.
What if, they thought, inside the dankness
of that little room
a pestilence is born
And darkness reaches out?


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