Friday, 2 November 2007


It’s so cold here in Winterval.
Shop lights glow revealing treasures within,
Calling across empty hearts where sorrow hides.
‘There’s more, always more.
Come inside.’

It’s so silent here in Winterval.
Like the little match girl freezing in the last flicker of dawn
We wait to be found.
No star in the night, no chorus of angels,
No word spoken, no not a sound.

It’s so dark here in Winterval.
They took down every sign.
No welcoming inn to rest a while, no sweet wine to savour.
Made like barren women, never to give birth, always to strive,
Like men, forever to journey, but never to arrive.

It’s so sad here in Winterval.
With no reason to give gifts
We lie wrapped in a joyless world, so meek, so mild.
Nothing to remember, no story to tell.
No Christ to worship and adore, just an inner child.

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