Don’t get too close or stay too long,

Stay away with angelic pyrotechnics,

The wandering stars and braying donkeys,

It’s cold but better outside than in.

Because then I don’t have to see the terror,

Of a bloody baby still attached, a pulsing grey tether,

Placenta a-coming, one more descent to agony,

Screams subside, infant terror remains.

In that small tent, no maps can orientate a

Stable footing. All ground is rent, chasms

Sunder wide, a fathomless maw sucks all creation,

All is made new, mirrors reflect ugly truths.

You cannot be who you say you are,

A baby, one slip from death, always needing

Care: blankets, nipples, attention. Always

Attention, with others, dependent deep down.

I can’t get too close and don’t want to stay.

A new world blossoms they say; Peace and Hope,

Rivers in deserts, but only new bloody rivers.

Light is too heavy to bear.

He is coming, he is always coming,

Weak and naked, crying and wailing,

Coming, a terrible coming.

He is not nice. The baby is an earthquake.