PS Cottier

Go for his wings! His wings!

I’ve posted this poem before on this blog, but here it is again as I wanted to have something for Christmas.  I would now describe myself as an agnostic, rather than an atheist, as I was when I wrote this poem. I sometimes picture Jesus as a ninja, waiting to leap out on unsuspecting rationalists.  (That’s not him above, that’s Jacob with an angel, by Louis Bonnat.)

We’ll see where I am by next Christmas!

First published in ‘The Mozzie’, Queensland.

The atheist at Christmas

Yes, I wish for more, more than these tottering temples,
these building blocks of presents under this most
European plastic tree, dropping leaves unseasonably.

If only it were possible, to unwrap belief, to kiss it quick
like an unexpected guest under mistletoe’s sharply
convenient hangover marriage.

But God is an idea too far, too gaudy, too stuffed,
fills a void of longing with crumbs unreasonably.
The brain must talk turkey, (or mouth gobble on).

Faith desire shines each new born December,
but frail batteries barely make month’s end.
By then it will have broken down.

And then be gone.

P.S. Cottier