Epithany
For twelve disciple-daysyou have been our welcome
house guest, adorned with
lights and beads and bows,
adored by wide and watery
eyes:
watching you, the Green Man
bearing the Son of Man,
nature converting to culture.
But on Christmas morn
I saw things from your
point of view, you,
taken from your homeland,
forced into domestic service,
sacrificed for our pleasures:
killing you, the Green Man
abused by Everyman,
nature cowering to culture.
My Anglo-Saxon roots
have kept faithfully to tradition,
but next time I will visit
your place of birth, the forest,
where your sapling siblings
are, and there I will watch
with wide and watery eyes
the light dance about them,
admire their dewy beads
and touch their conical bows,
and I will celebrate the
coming of the Son of Man
with your kith and kin,
nature and culture as one.
Poetry by Christopher Fernie
Read 186 times
Written on 2021-01-04 at 18:07
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