“Carol” by Rowan Williams

Frost scratching at the door,
blood has spilled across the floor;
soldiers step down the hill,
weapons fixed for the kill.

Where is this? When?
Here. Again.

Lights cut across the floor,
blades of wind slam back the door;
pray the child stays still,
tighten at the sudden chill.

Where is this? When?
Here. Again.

Past the dismantled door:
dust and linen on the floor.
He has left for the midnight hill,
to hold the troubled planets still.

Where is this? When?
Always. Again.

From Rowan Williams, Headwaters (Oxford: The Perpetua Press, 2008)