Poem After a December Party

Stars.
Party behind me--
Laughing faces in the light,
                    but I am tired,
                    and craving deep things.
My soul starts wailing--no, cooing--
                    on a saxophone, drawing
                    me down to a soulful place.
                    Alone,      
                    quiet,
                    back to myself.
I drive home, humming the tune
                    of "I Saw Three Ships",
                    which bade me an electronic farewell
                    as I walked out the
                    front door and into
                    the Christmas display's
                    magical front yard haze.
Me.
Alone.
The stars.
Jesus--the birthday boy,
                    coming silently,
                        slipping in through
                    cracks in broken pottery,
                        fleshy jars of clay.
Come to heal,
         but thought to be an enemy.
Come to sacrifice for his love,
                    this one-day white knight
whose name has been smeared
                    in the same mud He used
                    to give a blind man eyes
                    to see,
                         coming dirty, muddy,
                           slipping in through
                           cracks in blind, scaly
                           eyes,
                         shattering blindness,
blinding seeing eyes with a Son
                    too radiant to stare
                    straight in the face.
Stars--little cracks in the silent sky,
                    tiny windows to look out
                      through the veil of mystery
                  that has always covered
                    our little world--tiny balls
                       of light that remind me,
                         in this front yard post-party
                    stillness
                            that God, like Orion standing
                               watch over my car from
                               his twinkling sentry post,
                                              is a
                                               WARRIOR . . .
                                                 and a baby,
                                                 and a deep friend who meets me,
                                            alone,    
                                                                in this silent night.