While shepherds watched their flock by night,
Seated on the ground, the sheep kept going round
In telepathic discourse, full of questions as they might,
Talking to the other sheep whom divinity had found.
“What does He look like? Does He bear Mary’s smile
Or Joseph’s nose? Is Mary ok after the delivery
And who is tending her right now?” After a while
The response would come of Mary’s particular chivalry
To push in stable bear, and bear He to save us all,
And tend the baby dear, swathed in pieces of cloth
Torn off her precious dress worn, and Joe’s wool
Of brown and black and white, amidst the fleeting moths
Dancing in the candle-lit palace of the king of
The world born as lowly as a baby among the lowliest.
His message rich -Share,Love,Reconcile – may sound tough,
But those sheep were proto-us, living glory’s best
Oh that you may see beyond the glittering balls which hang
On the Tannenbaum, with blocks, and plasticky ropes
Shining light. Oh that His coming inspires, taking your pangs,
Bringing joy and peace to you, yours, and beyond your hopes.
(c) Nyonglema
waghni 