Advent Poem: Written While Half Listening to a Sermon

Photo by Carina on Unsplash

I feel the welling up —

once it was joy that

came on like this, that

came unexpected.

Now it’s mixed: equal

parts joy and loss —

melancholy, I suppose.

Hope, peace, joy. Love —

names for advent candles.

Despair, war, grief, hate —

no candles for those.

Yet they show up

unbidden, human all.

Stand up straight and

raise your head, Jesus

once advised of the

apocalypse, mixing

some Jeremiah in.

Seas surpassing their

bonds. The earth

trembling, opening in

cataclysm. Good stories.

But no righteous age

arrives. The rain keeps

raining. The creeks still rise.

Death, that old problem

keeps staring back

looking for apocalypse.

Hope ameliorated.

Despair nuanced.

A candle lit.