A Little Boy wistfully watched,
Unkempt hair frequently scratched;
Busy pavement unseeing many passed,
Christmas shopping furious and fast.
|The first Christmas had humble beginnings
Better times the lad remembers,
Father’s memory, burning embers;
One more cadre in Wanni’s battle,
His world collapsed, all unsettled
Father’s son on father’s shoulder,
Last Christmas a happy toddler;
He touches glass case, toys to hold –
No son – for money only they are sold.
Well-lit shop displays so dazzling –
Why not for me? It is so puzzling;
Few have much, many not a dime;
Will for me, Christmas bells chime.
Night’s so long, civilian or soldier,
Away from home, without love or shelter;
Madding crowd run helter-skelter,
Grab more, possess glamour and glitter.
Centuries past to a Maid and Carpenter
Was born a Boy, His bed a manger;
Straw and dung first Christmas décor,
Poor He was, Heaven’s Ambassador
King sought Innocence to exterminate;
Priests thought Him to excommunicate;
Knowing not Peace Prince God Incarnate
Into one’s heart comes as Love Intimate.
Soldier’s orphan son is one with Him
Who was Lord but suffered every whim;
Poverty, cruelty, vengeance, ignominy –
This was His life from cradle to Calvary.
Little Boy without father arise at dawn;
Tears hushed bright, Resurrection morn;
You, my boy, and our Mother Lanka
Await! Await! a glimmer of Sadeeptha.
Dr. Lalith Mendis