Well … it’s Christmas.
Some days ago, my dear friend Kristine shared me a strange song. I thought that I’ll used my frienship for Kristine, what I think about her deepest emotions and wishes, and some words of that song to write my 2019 Christmas wishes. I did so. Thank you Kristine. Be happy like I am. God is born. God came and comes in our so poor flesh!
These are my best wishes for next Holy Christmas.
Now I’ve into my mind and into my ears a sweet and peaceful music: John Sebastian Bach’s Cantata BWV 147 “Jesus meine Freude” (Jesu, joy of man’s desiring).
I’ve into my deep all my darkness and all the night where i was on this Advent.
I wish Jesus be born. I know Jesus is born. I wish His light, His peace, His joy.
I wish all these good things also for all you.
Jesus, I need You
by Judy Barton on Christmas, 2019
When fog hides
any idea of each way
I’m alone into grey, where I stay
There no answer responds to my why
I’m my need, I don’t feed
my pale soul nor my mind.
I’m as hole
where I can’t see my joy.
I’m a homeless old bitch
I’m grass frost under birches
When each Sunday
stops to be the Lord’s day
I’m alone in a night without rest
there’s no one that responds to my why
You are my need, feed
my pale soul and my mind.
You fill my hole
bringing me peace and joy.
Be born and be my home: then I’ll switch
to green grass under birches
December, 20th-24th 2019
JB, December 2019
Shadow cups pour oppression tonight
covering both sky and all the world
early and squeeze my heart: it’s request
yet worn out due to abstinence from sense and truth
Amber cup of an old rancid oil
is my mind because always distracted
by somewhere else that avoids true life
so I fish for confused souvenirs
Shadows cup pours itself on the world
that wants no my God, that digests us
as a black monster blob made of anger.
I’m still looking for You, Baby Child
December, 9th 2019
Art by Terrygold – “Terry – Riflessi sul nero n.17_001”
So my hands punish harshly my pride
chasing thoughts and sin where my effort
falls helplessly, tonight, dying silently,
lost in cold nothingness everywhere
I’m not able, I can’t by myself
I can’t avoid to fall more and more:
that’s disease of our being few things,
as men or women: as each creature
We are falling down, into the solstice
full of pagan memories and impulse.
I deny you for perverse desires
but You come anyway, Child and God
December, 1st 2019
Photo by Cherry Laithang
I’d wish tenderness, warmth
like soft flesh of a woman surrendering
moved as helpless gift.
My heart wanders at night, lost somewhere
This darkness devours and swallows
every passion, emotion and beauty.
Far away, far away I run into ill dreams
really to be not here. Please come soon
November, 30th 2019
Sometime my life is a crazy dream
where I see me so different from
myself as I am really, here,
while my days run forward I don’t know
Often I live into ill bad dreams
where my thoughts take up place of real things
and I try to be better with masks
indeed tributes to my narcissism
I would be better, I should be free
from my silly, so bad and false dreams.
I know whom I should be to be free.
Come soon, O Bone Jesu. Take me
November, 20th 2019
Today, at my home
The fourth candle lights up and it’s late:
like as usual it’s already here.
When I waited for, it was for wait
and I hid all my face to His light
This last candle I light up today.
It’s a memory of past that promises
future when I’ll can look at your aspect
without shadows and shame in my eyes
The fourth candle now shines while anger
rises everywhere; I shout it
and demand what I don’t. My life is
as a moaning consumed by nothing
There are four candles, they are red scarlet:
they are like lives that burn and both give
light, warm, love and too hope for the Grace.
I kneel down to the Child and His blood
December, 24th 2018
pic by JB: my 2017 Crib
Purple tears are the leaves
after the autumn’s gold in the wood.
I look at the frost coming down to
the world, that quickly runs to the solstice
The leaves drip to the ground like my days
in the gardens now soaked with winter.
I pray that Something want now return
in the Advent, when life can reborn
My crib is still awaiting a Child,
strange king who gives Himself to the people.
I’m the one who sleeps showing her back
the one You come to save