Down that noisy road in Colombo,
The horns peep, while people

Look around at Christmassy sights;
Large candy sticks far bigger

Than Barbers’ poles, and pine trees
By the dozen, sold beside the main roads

And one beggar child looks around
From under a large festive shop sign

Where the window, is sparkling,
With fairy lights, and shows his mother

A little crib, and a porcelain child
Made of sculpted clay, and wonders

Who that celebrity child is, in a manger,
Amidst calves, sheep and a lone donkey,

The centerpiece of Christianity,
How one child, was born into sheer humility,

To two refugees, who eloped, to become
Citizens of ever-changing horizons,

In vicissitudes of a fickle hope, wearing
Strapped sandals, and long linen robes,

Knowing Mary was simply God’s mule,
To smuggle into this world, his only son,

Packaged as contraband.

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