A Christmas poem
HEALING WOUNDS Truth creeps across the threshold like darkness steals the day, a slow slog of forgetting, a dying act of letting go: It is hard to live, forgiving. Far as distant earthen corners, so far our sin has been removed, even still we’d quick go digging, taking back our dreadful wounds. We hold miserly to what we know. At every moment it’s the other, who we believe should…