A (Maybe) Advent Poem

A Child Sleeps

A child sleeps as armies clash.

A piece of dirt covered with blood

This killing for a piece of mud.

Still the child sleeps.


A child prays, but not for cash

Shared love and lives make the spirit lift.

The giver’s always greater than the gift

So the child prays.


A child dreams as people dash

To jobs and things to fill the day

Their best dreams forgotten anyway

Yet the child dreams.


A child sings, doesn’t hear the crash

The crush the crowds, the seething mess

Desperately seeking more and getting less

As the child sings.


A child sleeps through the festive bash

These dull the pain and fears anyhow,

The burdens will one day come but for now

The child sleeps

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