Here is a Christmas reflection I wrote for my family many years ago ...
Pine and Straw
The stillest moments are spent under trees:
Under the Bodhi tree by the morning star;
under the hanging tree, in a pause like lightning
through ankle and wrist;
under the pepper tree;
under these humble trees on Christmas Eve, where
for a moment, we have torn down the walls
we have raised against the world,
and we go to sleep in the scent
of pine bark and forest floors.
These were my stillest moments:
Sitting with my family in the dark, warm room,
nestled in the scents of pine and cinnamon;
squinting my eyes at the blinking stars
on the tree, till their fire was thrown
across the room like Roman spears;
and turning in the pregnant silence
of that holy night
to ask my mother if GOD
is the same as UNIVERSE….
And here, in the dim room by the star-hung tree,
I squint my eyes again to see how light is hurled,
as it must have been hurled from an unusual star
in the ancient night, over a mother lifting her sweaty head
from the straw, to see how the light from the thatched roof
shines also from the slick child at her feet,
in the shuffling animal dark.
I can almost smell them behind the lines of lights,
secret in the shadows of the tree,
and there is blessing in this vision, and renewal –
that I from my usual course might be hurled to dirt,
to lift my head from straw,
to look into the face of glory
(born past my knowing)
Shining at my feet.
May the boundless knowledge that time presents and space allows illuminate the native perspectives of your original face.