Monday, December 16, 2013

poems of the Christmas story - Mary

The room became pulsating power and light
Quite frankly I was terrified of him:
This presence, fearsome-gentle, joyful-grim.
So strange his words of comfort and of fright
Which plunged me lonely into disgraceful plight.
He'd gone!  I breathed.  And yet my world was dim;
Fear hollowed me, but joy welled up to brim
And spill into the arid faith of night.

Submission is not over once agreed;
Rather repeated as I choose to tell
Accusing, loving eyes that search me, plead
To comprehend; as I am torn  by need
And fullness, faith and doubt:  Can all be well?
Is there within me God's own saving seed?

2007

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