... everybody talks about the baby, the
holy child, whose birth they celebrate
each Christmas. But we want to keep
him there, an innocent, wrapped up
like a present in swaddling clothes ---
weak and ineffective. Little God. For
the wages of sin is ugly. The cross
means suffering and pain. The blood
means death but no one must EVER
know about the life. It would be best
if we could keep him young forever ---
don't let him grow up to die only to rise
again as the King of kings and Lord of
lords. They'll bow to a Babe but not to
the Only Begotten of the Father, the
Hope for all mankind Who stepped
down from Heaven, Whose Name is
above all names. We'll confuse the
Holy Days until they don't know what
to believe: this is your assignment ....
(c) 2009, Karla Dorman (12/11)
link to me reading the poem: www.youtube.com/watch?v=PMaXAiGiYvc
2 comments:
great little poem and liked the video also. did well
long silence between the line
returning to the white pages
to rekindle the far away time
when we where young in age
but wise in the heart
Love your work
Martco
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