Twas three weeks till Christmas...an advent poem

Twas three weeks til Christmas, and all through my house,

Nothing was ready, including my spouse.

The gifts are not bought, the decorations still packed,

And all I could think of was what I still lacked



I’ve cards and letters to write, and laundry to do,

And cooking and cleaning and avoiding the flu,

And traffic is bad, and airlines are worse,

Not to mention the dozen new songs to rehearse.



There are parties, and sweaters, sales in the stores!

Snow to be shoveled and bills to ignore,

Guests coming early and work deadlines late,

The feeling there’s rather too much on my plate.



Then there’s the news, all sadness and crime,

And war, and economy and political slime,

And homeless and jobless and hopeless galore,

And the niggling doubt that we need something more.



I need a space of quiet retreat,

a chance to remember what makes us complete.

And I know its not jewelry or candy or toys,

But how do I block out all of this noise?



How do I hear that one lonely call

Up out of the wild, a message for all?

That somehow beyond the mountains of debt,

Through the valleys of fear and doubt and regret,



Past the culture that claims to know our whole worth

And tallies the cost to our death from our birth,

Beyond a world hell bent on a wealthy façade

To silence the voice crying out for our God,



Against the Caesar of power and the titan of greed,

The warmonger’s profit and progress’ speed,

Lies the whisper “repentance”, a confession-command

From the crazy-man John in the old holy land.



A call to remember our sins and repent

To open our hearts to the love that was spent,

And urge us to dismantle the wealthy façade

So that all may see the Salvation of God.



-by Marie Mainard O'Connell**


**yes, this poem may be reused, reposted. Please just cite the original author and let me know that you did it. Otherwise, feel free to share. May it do some good.
kmarie.mainardoconnell@gmail.com