What if it were true
that Christmas paints a deeper hue
than watercoloured festive scenes,
on greeting cards in aisle 18
of Tesco, three shelves from the beans.
In baskets placed, with bread, well-seeded,
and Granny’s gin, approval needed.

What if there were more
to baby Jesus laid on straw
than cheesy gift wrap in aisle four? 
That God, so rich, would come so poor,
Earth’s king crawl in through servant door.
Throw off all trappings of his glory
to fully walk our human story.

What if there’s a light 
far brighter than that starry night
(the one on year-two Christmas art
and fridge magnets for uncle Bart).
That light, existent from the start, 
which darkest death can never dim
‘cos life itself was borne through him. 

What if it were clear
that when angels did appear
to shepherds, saying ‘do not fear’,
those words were meant for every ear,
in every place, in every year. 
Because, we’re scared, but God is near,
and one day he’ll wipe every tear.

What if those wise men
(behind the doors of number 10
on advent calendars worldwide,
with grimaced looks from camel rides)…
…what if their learning did collide
with truth that night, so new, so fresh,
bound not in books but human flesh. 

What if from this tale 
a richer picture can prevail
than carved scenes by the fireplace.
Not bound in time or distant place,
creator’s hands display their trace
and sketch into that infant’s face
a portrait…of eternal grace.