Auch eine Weihnachtsgeschichte

 

Ich schrieb sie in den Neunzigern 

nach einer Zeitungsmeldung vom 24.12. aus Göttingen.

 

*

 

 

Da war Maria in der Weihe-Nacht
hat ganz allein den Sohn zur Welt gebracht
hat kein Haus gehabt – schon lang nicht mehr
auch keinen Stall, nur beide Hände – leer…
In Abriszmauern ist geborn das Kind
da war kein Esel und kein Rind
kein Stern der leuchtet und kein Hirte hat’s gesehn.
Wo war der Engel? –
Blieb nicht wer vorm Fenster stehn?
Vielleicht
war Josef in der Nähe noch
im Suff gelegen in dem finstren Loch
vielleicht
war er auch längst schon wieder fort
auf ew’ger Flucht und Suche nach dem Ort
die Bürde abzulegen und zu ruhn…
Und für Maria konnt er gar nichts tun.
Die ist alleine durch die Stadt geirrt
Ob keine Tür sich öffnen wird
Und in der Frostnacht ist das Kind erfrorn
Und keiner hat gesagt:
Ein König
ist euch heut geborn. 

 

 

(eingescanntes altes Papierfoto von einem Ort, der seinerzeit auch Unterschlupf

für Obdachlose war - gibt es aber schon lange nicht mehr)

A fairytale in pictures

Re-posted from June 26th 2016, for Second on the 2nd

True map

There is no one who comes here that does not

know this is a true map of the world, with you

there in the center, making home for us all.

- storypeople -

Re-post 18.2.2020

Such small things

For a long time there were only your footprints & laughter

in our dreams & even from such small things,

we knew we could not wait to love you forever.

- storypeople -

Re-post 13.2.2019

Faded pink

I like the faded pink, she said.

It reminds me always of the prince with the bicycle,

who came to free me from the thorns,

as I was still a little princess...

Re-post 5.2.2016

There are

There are no beginnings

&no endings.

There are only moments we

pay closer attentions to

the different directions were can go.

- Brian Ansdreas -

Re-post 2.4.2019

Two on the train

They were hungry and had no money.

Held each other by the hands and boarded the train without a ticket.

They acted as if they were speaking Russian and other foreign words.

Hilasüsanupur ekkaunapurra...

(that they had just invented).

They said that came from the Pechora river.

Were on the wrong train.

The woman with the poncho and the man with the hat

(nobody here would wore such a stuff)

Lost luggage ... strange in this land.

The conductor turned a blind eye

the travelers gave them sandwiches and lemonade.

When they were off, on the next station... said a prayer of gratitude.

Re-Post 3.6.2015

Home

I'll always be grateful to you who taught me this:

we are the ones who make this place home.

- storypeople -

Re-Post 6.12.2017

The colors of a tulip

A tulip doesn’t strive to impress anyone. It doesn’t struggle to be different than a rose. It doesn’t have to. It is different. And there’s room in the garden for every flower. You didn’t have to struggle to make your face different than anyone else’s on earth. It just is. You are unique because you were created that way. Look at little children in kindergarten. They’re all different without trying to be. As long as they’re unselfconsciously being themselves, they can’t help but shine. It’s only later, when children are taught to compete, to strive to be better than others, that their natural light becomes distorted.

- Marianne Williamson -

Re-Post 15.6.2016