He lay there in the lowly manger,
vulnerable, tiny and marginalised,
yet kings came from afar to pay homage.
He was far from the centre of empire
and early life came as a homeless refugee
fleeing the deadly threat of violence.
No room could be found at the inn,
and where is the room today
for love and compassion and justice?
But the message that outsiders are welcome,
can yet echo down the centuries,
while cruel empires can still be defied.
Now in the overcrowded shops,
tired consumers stand in lines at tills,
with indifferent eyes and defeated hearts.
The eye of each heart as firmly closed
as the way back to the sacred garden.
And we travel ever further east of Eden
in thrall to the unholy trinity of
consumerism, exploitation and waste.
While out in the shadows a lonely man
shivers in the deep, dark December night,
his few belongings strewn around him.
Silently praying for open eyes and hearts
to find just a little room for him.
Peter Sagar
