The flicker of candles writes its

theology across the gathered faces,

and time folds inward to just now,

like hands discovering intimate prayer

in the democracy of passing dishes,

as the year’s rough edges soften into

something almost like forgiveness,

and smiles attend this joyful liturgy.

 

We are suddenly plural with our separate

sorrows pooling into the glowing light

of laughter, the table becoming a boat

on which the heavy cargo of our days

finds its rest in this hidden safe harbour.

 

Here the smallest joy with children playing

rings like church bells through the room,

each sound a bar in this unlikely carol,

composed from nothing more than grace:

the beautiful ordinary miracle of still

being here together, imperfect and whole.

 

13/12/2025