Morning noon and night even on the demanded day
of rest
the wanderers arrive exhausted and afraid
the soldiers see nothing but pleasure in spitting fear
into their eyes
We sing the glory of this beaten down
place
as if the hero who was prophesized
still rules our paths with care
But only
the most willfully blind can sing those songs
when the invaders claim our heartbeats
as the rhythm with which to dance their control
Count them
each arrival must be captured
in the ledger from which our sustenance
is calculated
So when he stood here
asking for shelter before she fell into
the road covered with shame trembling
to force our gaze away from her swollen
womb
I stopped for just long enough
to exhale my well-adapted mindless trance
and took them to the stable
ii.
We are the inheritors of dust
the cracked dried branches of a tree
that has forgotten how to bear fruit
We
do not sing the promises shouted
so long ago
We are here only to discard
every thought of a bright new dawn
She could be heard everywhere
groaning out something more than struggle
It was not
until the young men
crowded into the door demanding
to see a child
that I heard
how odd my breath was sounding
We went in
the young ones pushing
past me
more hungry than the mules
and oxen in the stable
falling against
each other
staring staring until frozen
with their long- unrequited hunger
They let their eyes feast upon
the child
Felt this poem as much as read it. A tenderness here that refuses to look away from cruelty or fear, and that honesty moved me deeply. The moment of stopping, of breaking the trance and choosing a small, human act of mercy, felt achingly real. Throughout it all, sensing the universal Christ everywhere in creation, the human incarnation of God expanding the gift of divine love beyond boundaries and expectation. The ending unsettled and reverent at once, holding hunger, vulnerability, and fragile hope together. Grateful for a poem that sees so clearly and invites us to see and love more fully.
ReplyDeleteThis poem belies a sense of expectation of a witness and the dread fear of the betrayal of that witness.
ReplyDeleteThanks Joseph. Thought provoking as I always expect.
ReplyDeleteJoseph,
ReplyDeleteSo warm and reassuring to read this in a time when “We sing the glory of this beaten down
place.”
Thank you.
What struck me most was the description of hunger. The hunger of the world for true unity and peace. Thank you for this Christmas poem. Joy to the World!
ReplyDeleteThis poem brings forth the humble humanity of the experience of the events. Thank you for sharing.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful and powerful. Better with each reading.
ReplyDelete