This poem concludes a trilogy of poems over the last three Christmases. For 2009 and 2010 see Myrrh and Frankincense.


All I have wanted
for two years
and three months
is treasure;
Not wrapped and buried
in a chest under the ground,
rotting, decaying,
already dead,
but here, held in my
my hands,

Every time they ask me
to look expectantly
to view forward and glory in the future
I cannot see through
beads of tears.

Oh to lay glory and riches aside,
Oh that no man, no child, no boy,
no baby
no more may die;
That the sons of earth,
returned to earth,
laid in the earth,
would rise;
Be given second birth.

Forgive me if I would turn my face
for many futures;
Forgive me if I would be slow to purchase gold,
something to wipe my eyes with more than salt.

I have everything,
and for the rest of my mortal life,
I will have nothing;
Holes are God shaped,
and Gods are infant shaped,
and I have one such hole forever in my life,
forever in need of filling.

Golden for me are not crowns cast,
or altars, arks and urns sacrificed.
Golden is the moment I will stand with others,
shouting “worthy”,
and turning for one moment,
to see your face once again,
this time aligned, assigned, with me and the myriad others,
one cry, one voice, one saviour, one God.

Then, only then,
will I shed my final tear,
wiped away,
by the same hand,
that wiped yours,
and His.

Posted in Poetry Tagged with: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
  • Cerebusboy

     Always believe in your soul! You’ve got the power to
     *ahem* ;-)

      Most modern religious poems are, the great Geoffrey Hill aside,  pish, but I actually quite enjoyed this (5th stanza is especially striking)

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Anglican Cycle

William Tyndale
Lord, give to your people grace to hear and keep your word that, after the example of your servant William Tyndale, we may not only profess your gospel but also be ready to suffer and die for it, to the honour of your name; through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord, who is alive and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever.

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Two Final Things

Aber mit der Heimat
geht man immer herum,
durch die Welt,
dort und dort
Peter Handke

No one could describe
the Word of the Father;
but when He took flesh from you, O Theotokos,
He consented to be described, and restored the fallen image to its former beauty.
We confess and proclaim our salvation in word and image.
Kontakion of the Triumph of Orthodoxy