Blue lights at a distance, almost enchanting,
This near to Christmas: twinkling,
They move at speed, though,
Across my plane of vision, then suddenly
Stop.

Bringing the gift of mercy
And absolution, the blessings
Of law, or medication, or
Water to quench fire, or all of these:

People may be lying in the road
Formless, motionless,
Their next-of-kin unknowing yet:
Glass broken - strewn like diamonds – radio static
Sirens, blue lights strobing, pulsing, here, this near,
And the frantic practised
Panic of paramedics,
Picking up the pieces.

But from a distance
From this distance, at least,
Safe across the valley
The true-blue twinkling lights
Pinpoint the dark, and catch my eye
With their impersonal display

Perhaps this is why
To me, and to God,
Distant suffering, in abstract,
Looks almost beautiful