On a personal note I’d like to wish all my readers a Very Happy Christmas. A lot happened in the our world during 2016. Most of it was bad. Let us hope we can forget our differences for a day or two and allow “Peace and Goodwill” to reign, at least temporarily.
I’m of an age to remember when even folks who were fighting each other paused with respect for the symbolism of Christmas Day. It’s so long ago that perhaps some younger people never heard the tales that emanated from the trenches of World War One, when on Christmas Day the fighting stopped and soldiers on both sides played football together, putting aside their enmity for one day.
Today, it’s hard to imagine such a thing occurring in Aleppo, or any of the other places in the world where people are killing each other simply because they hold differing viewpoints. It’s a weakness of the human species to demand that everyone must believe what we believe, yet if we fail to overcome that weakness there can be no hope left for us.
On December 23rd 2012, I wrote a poem published on Sparrow Chat based on a famous Christmas work by Clement Clarke Moore. My version seemed appropriate then, and with certain amendments, is equally so today.
We need to remember that, whatever god we believe in, Christian, Muslim, Hindu – or, simply the natural order of things – if we don’t treat our world and each other with respect and love, then the gods will take matters out of our hands. It could be by global warming or some other natural occurrence, or even by “hot fire from their noses,” but it will happen.
THE FINAL NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS.
T’was the night before Christmas, and all round the earth
Terrorists were plotting for all they were worth.
Obama sits musing which drone strike to pick,
A wedding? A market? Whose ass should he kick?
Muslims seeth hatred for all that is Christian,
Jews in Israel eye Hamas with suspicion.
Syrian rebels at war ‘gainst Assad
Are fighting each other – the whole world’s gone mad!
The Arctic is melting, the earth growing warm,
Droughts, floods, tornadoes, becoming the norm.
No-one takes notice, “It’s not us!” they cried
As New York washed away on a rather high tide.
Nuclear warheads point skywards by many a dozen
Nations fight o’er the oil in the Arctic unfrozen
The people point fingers at Latino and Muslim
Society’s collapsing, it all looks so grim.
Last straw for the gods was the rich upstart, Trump
To be boss of the world was too much, to be blunt,
The cosmos was stirring, for all it was able,
Something had to done, and it needs must be final.
High in the Heavens Mohammed and Jesus
Mithras, Athena, and Zeus with his aegis,
Look down on a world they have brought into being
And cannot believe what the hell they are seeing.
Speaking narry a word while commencing their toil
They summon their powers with anger a-boil
And blasting the earth with hot fire from their noses
Consume it all up, despite firemen’s hoses.
Then summoning chariots of fire with a whistle
They fly off to heaven like the down of a thistle.
Only one of them speaks – the one they call Mithras
Mutters, “Bloody little shits! They just didn’t deserve Christmas.”
© R J Adams
(With apologies to Clement Clarke Moore).
A peaceful and happy Christmas to all, and the hope of better things to come in 2017.