a poem for Christ's Mass
When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.” Luke 2:15
it happened without our first knowing
the world tilting into new alignment
a stable axis created between the poles
of a heavenward star and a barn baby
born in a house of bread
all nature’s true north at once redirected
to the pull of this new Crux
and yet only the hearts of those
with ears tuned to angels
felt its gravity that first night
just as the moon exerts force equally
on both the water and the clay and each
are moved by it, the clay imperceptibly
and the water so much the whole ocean
feels its sway
but what shall it matter that we were not
the first, it only matters that we not
be the last, so with haste we make way
to the place that holds the consolation
of all who wrestle with God
let us go now and see this thing
with our own eyes, to hear his cries
with our own ears, to feel his warmth
with our own hearts, and see if indeed
such a gift can truly be
because, I dare say, this world cannot
bear it long, we've not sufficient grace to receive
such goodness and joy, and no matter
how we might swaddle him now we will not
keep him bound long
only the one who listens with God
shall know him when he comes through
the gate and sing of this new borne light:
now, Lord, you let your servant go
in peace your word has been fulfilled
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