Christ-mas is the birthday of Christ, not the silly thing we always think to be.
(Two voices for this Christmas Day)
Gabriel wanders across all the Earth
looking for someone who is now waiting.
There is no holy virgin nor man
who knows and sees himself deeply inside
We are living in this wasteland where
everything seems deserted and burnt
without aim, without heat or a flame
rich and poor people with foolish prides
Gabriel seeks a break in the walls
where the Lord of the world could be born.
He sees the dawn fire after the night,
he sees sunsets of dark and grim glory
A pale shadow is spread on the world,
upon things and the men that are sleeping
making selves gifts to a nonsense grey.
Beauty changes its colours into blank
Gabriel comes back yet this our Earth
turns herself over tired replays.
Also the art denies her own sense
without certitude: the reason is lost
Memory becomes stagnant reminders,
everything you did loses purpose.
Also rules and formats decompose,
deconstruct music and lyrics too
Gabriel can find no longer hope
only silly claims, wails of infants
that arise inane and screaming words
blustering rights about their death
Desolate existence reels and falls
(immanent programs end while they start).
No star shines at the zenith to show
where to go, what’s the faith, how to know
Gabriel again thinks of the Woman
of that ancient day when she sustained
beauty, freedom, peace, justice and truth
into her flesh in which Jesus grew
He was born, He is already born
to die and resurrected every time
inside me, in the hour of the world,
inside the sludge of what I can do
Gabriel looks for me and demands
only me. Anyway Christ is born
anyhow. Anyway Christ can born
here for me only if I want so
In a black, missing garden of sadness,
we are ironworks dark, rough and twisted,
convoluted by surges reflexed.
A light flare hard hits us: that’s forever
December, 8th 2015, Lady Day
Thanks to Severina Halostar for her suggestions and corrections.
go here for the Italian version