Of the Living God

A babe is born, silk-soft,

The fingers and the cry are small.

In the larger world,

I study this miracle gift,

And from my eye there falls a tear.

In its reflection

The star-lit manger is very near.

Small legs come running

And hollering discovery of green-growings

On winter-brown. Between the

Newspaper and my frown, I hear

A gentle Jesus teaching his special ones,

And I reach out to mine.

“And the angel said unto them

Fear not; for, behold, I bring you

Good tidings of great joy,

Which shall be to all people.”

“Come,” I say, and together

We tackle the world. Not aiming bush-high, but

Looking to stars that light the sky;

Loving those who think used thoughts;

Walking a new direction with those

Who see stop signs as reason

To abandon the journey;

Challenging losers to qualify

For their eternal trophy;

Feeling greatness in the single soul;

Looking beyond chapters

To the whole.

“And we believe and are sure that thou art

That Christ, the Son of the living God.”

And in the moment of admitting,

We finally kneel

Instead of quitting. It’s here that we

Know, He’s been kneeling with all men

Since Gethsemane.