[stylist] Christmas poem

[William L Houts]

Hi Shawn, and Merry Christmas!

This is a beautiful, useful poem and I'm so glad to find this gem among 
other Christmas presents.  It even, almost, brought a tear to my eye, 
and I did get that nose-sting you sometimes get when something zaps you 
right in the soul's solar plexus.  Fine work!



--Bill









On 12/23/2014 7:48 AM, Lynda Lambert via stylist wrote:
> I think this is beautiful Shawn!  I think when you get to "I only ask 
> that Christmas brings me rest..." is the place where the poem 
> actually  begins. From there, forward, you have captured it all. This 
> is where glory and grace begins, after you sifted through the other 
> things first. Lynda
>
> -----Original Message----- From: Jacobson, Shawn D via stylist
> Sent: Tuesday, December 23, 2014 8:24 AM
> To: 'Writer's Division Mailing List (stylist at nfbnet.org)'
> Subject: [stylist] Christmas poem
>
> Friends
> I've kind of been away from this page for a while.  November is always 
> a bit crazy for me with the audit and the state convention.  I hope to 
> get into some serious butt-to-chair time here in the near future.
>
> Till then, here is a little poem for the holidays.
>
> Shawn
>
> A place called Christmas
> by Shawn Jacobson
>
> There is a place called Christmas,
> a place found on maps made of the spirit.
> This place once known for toys
> is now known for deeper things,
> family, tradition and ancient memory.
> The word "gay" still has its hallowed meaning here.
> Objectivist selfishness seems alien in this place.
> And all the false gods, the god who hates fags,
> the god who hates Jews, the god who hates the stranger,
> such gods, who are devils are banished from this sacred space,
> warded off by the sentinel of grace.
> Only the true God, the presence of love rules here.
> I only ask that Christmas bring me rest,
> the Sabbath rest that restores.
> Let the sacred music flow over me
> like waves from Mother Ocean.
> Let the virgin snow untouched by worldly things
> blanket my yard like a great white sea.
> Let the view from my window be a Christmas card from Heaven.
> Let the Christmas lights illumine my soul,
> and let peace and joy reign in this house.
> The day will come when I am summoned forth by bagpipes,
> when fife, drum, and bugle will summon me forth to fight the good fight,
> but let that day stay in the future, that I may tarry here a while 
> longer.
> Let this citadel of Christmas bring us peace.
>
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-- 


"Oh, Sophie!  Whyfore have you eated all de cheeldren?"