First Saturday of Advent

Please read Psalm 2

weary beyond fatigue,

the strictures and

stresses of these days

knot my spirit tighter

and tighter until

i almost snap;

so come,

massage me with

your healing balm of

wonder.

my soul more arid

than death valley,

my heart seeded with

the ashes of desiccated

hope,

my dreams withering under

the onslaught of hype;

so come,

pour your grace all over

me

til i swim in joy.

perfection piles higher and higher,

expecting neatly creased wrapping,

finely curled ribbon (six inches!)

calligraphied notes for each

person on my list;

so come,

bestow on me the carols

of children who

may mess up some of the

words,

but know the meaning deep

in their hearts.

come

Anointed One,

come.

(c) 2009 Thom M. Shuman