Christmas Moon by Rafael Jesús González

Christmas Moon

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Christmas eve in the desert is full of recently polished stars

but none shines so brightly as the full moon that caresses the

back of the mountain stretched like a lizard asleep. On its

side, the mountain wears its own star of electric lights like

the jewel of some Masonic order. This border where the tips

of the tails of the Sierra Madre to the south and the Rocky

Mountains to the north almost meet is called El Paso del

Norte (Pass of the North) through which for centuries have

filtered merchants of the Mexica empire, Spanish conquis-

tadores roasting in their helmets and breastplates of steel,

gringo adventurers, and refugees from dictatorships and

hunger. It has been the door and port of pilgrims, of the poor

in search of lodging, of shelter, of refuge, of work.

On Christmas eve in other times the posadas came to their

close in time for midnight mass at the cathedral. The holy

pilgrims have arrived and the child of light is born. Halle-

luiah, halleluiah, halleluiah – and peace on Earth.

But it is not only on this night that the Río Grande and the

mountain, the moon and the stars see José (and Pedro and

Pablo and Juan) and María (and Chayo and Rosa and Car-

men) come, and see born, in a stable or not, Jesús (and Lupe,

Arturo and Susana, Francisco and Cecilia) all children of

light. But even so, there is no peace on Earth.

For these nights, since I was a child, in San Jacinto (or Al-

ligator) Plaza has been decorated a giant Christmas tree full

of lights (and, to my childishness, marvels) with a star lit at

its tip. Above, the stars of the heavens are very far away and,

though enormous beyond imagining, appear very small to

the sight. Shepherds or not, no one expects the angels to sing

to us, and were we wise we would content ourselves with our

humble moon, mirror of our own star the holy Sun, awesome

enough though small as stars go, and we would realize that

peace on Earth will not come to us from the heavens but

from ourselves, all made from the dust of stars.

Rafael Jesús González

           -- Rafael Jesús González, 

from La musa lunática / The Lunatic Muse

(c) Rafael Jesús González

 

See the author of this poem read at Fronterizos in Exile: A Reading of Border Writers and Expatriates, Wednesday, Dec. 29, at the Loftlight Studio, 315 El Paso Street in Downtown El Paso (near El Paso Street and Overland).