In this season we celebrate
the birth of helpless children.
Children in their helpless state
attract love, as if we forgot
ourselves long enough to know
something better. Let all sorrow
be put aside, all praise to God
be followed by a great Amen.
The child we praise is God and man;
human, so frail yet divine.
He will grow, give commands, see
creation’s perfect design
flowing out of him while we
still clutch an impure universe
as it comes streaming into us,
making of it what we can.
His mother’s love will grow apace
too, with feelings of helplessness
as her son grows to the purpose
God intended and awaits,
completion on a lonely cross.
Even in such extremity
he will charge her with his love
for each of us. Within three days
he is reborn to a new life
but that is for another time,
its season is eternity
and will need another poem.
Reflecting deeply on his birth
and everything that comes to pass
Mary joyfully concludes
if all creation springs from him
it follows as the day and night
she is mother of all of us,
and thus begins the next great choice
God will give her. These simple truths
come with all the time we need
to grasp them. Don’t put them aside
even as we now rejoice.
A child is born to each of us.