Strange Treasures

The angel has come and gone.
Months of uncomfortable questions
have given birth to something more.
Shepherds who came with loud silence,
offering praise and muffled awe,
have faded into that dark night
leaving just strange stories behind.

Mary’s joy has not faded,
and that uncelebrated birth,
marked by livestock and open air,
will be recognized one more time
in the heart of David’s city.
Not by the roman guards, merchants,
or even the priest who offers
the two turtledoves they brought.
For him, a daily offering.
For them, a private passover,
a liturgy of redemption
visceral, understandable.
“Fear not, for I have redeemed you.”
A truth for her and her firstborn,
consecrated with blood to God.

A hand arrests them as they leave –
an old man holds her son and weeps.
joy so evident and public.
An ancient woman prays out loud,
“This child will redeem this city.”
Every face turns to Mary…no
to her son, so small and so new.
Tiny fingers that shaped the world
grab the thin skin he’s here to save.
She can see that he’s hungry.
Two long lives spent in prayer for this?

“How can this be?” repeats again
as Mary holds those words, made flesh.
Now the celebration is done;
Mary’s months of waiting… ended.
As they bring their child home that night,
there is far more still unanswered,
stored to bursting within her heart,
than she has ever held before.