Christmas Sorrows

What for some may be a time of joy and family reunion, is often, for others, a time of desperate sadness and separation.
It is the privilege of ministry to meet people at every point between celebration and despair.

One of the saddest things I've ever had to do during a Christmas season was to conduct a service for the burial of a stillborn baby. There are no easy answers or quick comforting words that can be offered at times like these. Often silence is the only honest response. But even the silence sometimes has to be articulated later and I did this some months after the event in the following short poem. It is offered to everyone for whom Christmas is a hard and painful time.

Stillborn at Christmas

Cold was the day.
Bitter and cold were our hearts.
The sun shone, clear and bright
but, strangely, without warmth.
we felt forsaken by the Universe,
a gathered knot,
around the loose-ends of the little life
we never knew.

And we buried
the dreams and hopes
that had unravelled.

The flesh became a word
that would not dwell among us.
and I, the spinner of words,
had nothing left to say.


(c) Iain D. Cunningham