Holy Night

I think of my dead father,

How heartbroken he would have been.

I wonder if he knows what's going on;

I hope he doesn't.

I hope, after we pass, there is 

Only a peaceful void, and that 

All encompassing glow of love.

Though I sometimes wish for Hell 

For those who unleash it here.

But I assume She knows best,

She who is All, the Good and the Bad,

The Love and the Suffering.

I assume there is a meaning behind 

All this cruelty, all this injustice.

I think back to that night when

For a while I was Her, when 

Everything dissolved 

Into little glimmers of Love.

There was nothing else, but the breeze

And the hand of my dead grandmother 

Feeling my beard for the first time.