Third Sunday of Advent

Little one,
the world seems too torn
to be mended.
Too dark
to be lit.
Too much pain and grief
and too many tears
to be consoled or comforted.
Too much lost
to be found.
Too much hurt
to be healed.
Too much evil
and rivulets of blood
to be reconciled.

Little one,
the world seems too torn
to be mended.

But these visitors
they tell of angels.
Angels were singing.
A song about you,
little one,
a song about you.