Christmas is blood flowing in the streets,
The blood of the Lord valiant at war.
It is the wrath of God made flesh,
Pulsing through tiny, scarlet veins.
Christmas is the division of sheep and goats,
Separated at once by whips of divine ire.
It is the splitting of time by a two-edged sword,
Shining red as it falls on the necks of the just.
Christmas is a book of history torn to pieces
And thrown into a furnace hotter than hell.
It is a whisper in the night that stills souls:
Haunting them, chilling them, spooking them.
Christmas is the force of the right arm of God,
Which casts enslaved bodies into slavery.
It an axe that divides the hearts of women
And men who choose to die or die to choose.
David J.W. Inczauskis, S.J.
P.S. This poem is nothing other than an interpretation of “Chapter One” of Pope Benedict XVI’s Introduction to Christianity.