Tears

Trickled

        Down her cheeks

        At the sight of

               The empty stocking,

               The house, unvisited.

                      While, next door, Father Christmas

                      Looked at his watch, zipped up his bag

                     And roared home for breakfast in his Jag.

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How has the shrine of wisdom and manger

Become a nightmare of fear and danger?

Lives tossed aside, like unwanted presents,

Of factory workers and toiling peasants?

How has Christmas, day of celebration,

Been transformed into a desecration,

Where the rocket, mortar, the flag and fist

Are the only currencies which subsist,

And the welcome afforded to a guest

Is replaced b...

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