Gwyn Thomas
The Nativity Play
It is a Christmas rite that
The children of the vestry
Present in our chapel
The drama of the nativity.
Some adults will have been
Stitching Christmas into old shirts,
Old sheets, old curtains
To clothe that gang of thespians.
'The Gifts', too, will be throwaways:
An old biscuit tin, gilded and adorned,
Will become a casket of 'Myrrh';
An old carton of tea will be 'Frankincense':
And a lump of something coloured and wrapped
Will become 'Gold'.
And there will be, always, a star that's electric.
Other adults will have been coaching Angels,
Attempting to show Wise Men how things are done,
Trying to prod into the unruly
The decorum of "Shepherds',
And struggling to keep Herod and his Men
From wild and perfidious insubordination—
For this there's among them a strong inclination.
Mary and Joseph will be somewhat older
Than the rest and, so, easier to manage.
Baby Jesus is always a dolly.
From time to time in the rehearsals there will be
Unseemly bickering between Wise Men and Shepherds,
And, sometimes, loud arguments there among Angels,
And the walloping of heads will be an unmajestic
Temptation for Herod's Men with their swords made of plastic.
And when the sombreness of Gift-giving is rudely shattered
When one of the Wise Men drops the biscuit tin, with great clattering,
There is need of grace to stop our Reverend from swearing.
But in the love that is there within those walls
On the night itself, all there are family.
There the white innocence of those who are acting
Makes, miraculously, a birth out of ordinary things,
And in our night the electric star will lighten the darkness
And will point back to that very first Christmas,
And show us the light that can't ever be buried.
And in the midst of the horror of a world ruled over by Herod
It is said once again that God does not die.
Welsh; trans. Gwyn Thomas
Gwyn Thomas, Welsh.