by L.J. Bosela
Good King Wenceslas looked out
On the Feast of Stephen
When the snow lay round-about
Deep and crisp and even,
Brightly shone the moon that night
Though the frost was cruel
When a poor man came in sight
Gathering winter’s fuel.
The snow still lies so soft and white
And the frost still bites cruel
The poor men are all about
But where is the Good King?
Have we all forgotten then
That no matter what we be
We should not forsake
Our brothers who still need?
Joy to the world, the Lord is come
Let earth recieve her King
Let every heart
Prepare him room
And heaven and nature sing.
Where is the joy, only madness
Worry over gifts soon-forgotten
Hearts have no room, and do not sing
The King is lost amidst the plastic
And bustle that surrounds us.
Hark, the Herald Angels sing!
“Glory to the newborn King!
Peace on earth, and mercy mild,
God and sinners reconciled!”
Joyful all ye nations rise!
Join the triumph of the skies!
With the angelic host proclaim:
“Christ is born in Bethlehem!”
Hark, the herald angels sing,
Glory to the New-born King!
All we hear those angels say
Is what the businesses want them to;
Only telling us to buy that
Which we can really live without.
Where is Christ in all this mess?
And where the triumph of His birth?
We all have lost sight of Him
And our brothers in snow.
Good King Wenceslas looked out…
I cannot see him here.
On the Feast of Stephen…
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About the Author: L.J. Bosela
L.J. Bosela was raised in Sterling on the Kenai Peninsula. She writes mostly fiction, with a special interest in fantasy in the style of Tolkien, Lewis, and McKillip. Outside of writing, she also enjoys reading, drinking tea, listening to classical and folk music, and spending time walking through woods, bookstores, and antique shops.
