The Night
Christmas makes me feel like a poet. What is one to do on the eve of Christ’s birth but write about him? The Kingdom has come.
We toil.
We spin.
We rage
And we plot.
We throw up our hands,
“It’s all for naught”.
We curse.
We hiss.
We spew
And we fight.
We look at the other,
“It’s they who aren’t right”.
We worry.
We stress.
We pace
And we fear.
We bite our nails,
“The end must be near”.
It’s all for naught?
It’s they who aren’t right?
The end must be near?
You’ve not heard of the night?
The night He was born.
The night that He came.
The night beneath stars
When everything changed.
Here was Light of the world:
Gentle and meek.
A friend of the broken,
The helpless and weak.
Our questions were answered
By the babe in a stall.
A good Kingdom established,
Once and for all.
We sing.
We dance.
We shout
And we praise.
We marvel anew,
“A hope for all days!”
We go.
We help.
We love
And we mend.
We open our arms,
“Your foe, my friend”.
We pray.
We wait.
We trust
And we bless.
We take a deep breath,
“Now and forever, we rest”.
I love this.