Not for three moths, let alone nine
could Mary conceal His presence-
Nor was Joseph kept in the dark
before His eruption like the morning star
at midnight breaking in winter-
He dazzled both shepherds and wise men:
We twelve were all blinded-three years-
till flesh failed to veil Him, even from us,
in a calm stilled sea, and on one mountain top.
How then could we conspire to cover Him
with heavy human robes- bury Him
in puny feudal powers? Him
whose setting the sun mourned,
whose light death could not extinguish?
He burst out of that grave, propelled
by resurrection- casting us all before Him
by the blaze of his uprising.
Comments are closed.