Peace on Earth
Beneath this mask
my words are muffled.
I am careful not
to lean in too
closely
to hear
your voice.
Even my father,
who has survived,
miracles of miracles,
I keep two arms-
lengths away
from me at
all times.
How shall we celebrate
without embraces
this year? What
language do we use
to hold each
other’s hearts
close as we keep
ourselves apart?
This year of divisions
has made our bubbles
so smothering
and small.
Wrapped around
four candles,
one lit, my
family and I
sing, “O, come,
o, come,
Emmanuel.”
Elsewhere,
little candles
are also lit, small
lanterns emerging
from muddy
floodwaters
that no one
else will
see.
Beneath these masks,
we continue
to breathe
our hushed
breaths
so that
another
can be
spared.
Justine C. Tajonera
Image by Adam Niescioruk of Unsplash
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