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.
