Of the Living God

A babe is born, silk-soft,
The fingers and the cry are small.
In the larger world,
I study this miracle gift,
And from my eye there falls a tear.
In its reflection
The star-lit manger is very near.

Small legs come running
And hollering discovery of green-growings
On winter-brown. Between the
Newspaper and my frown, I hear
A gentle Jesus teaching his special ones,
And I reach out to mine.

“And the angel said unto them
Fear not; for, behold, I bring you
Good tidings of great joy,
Which shall be to all people.”

“Come,” I say, and together
We tackle the world. Not aiming bush-high, but
Looking to stars that light the sky;

Loving those who think used thoughts;
Walking a new direction with those
Who see stop signs as reason
To abandon the journey;
Challenging losers to qualify
For their eternal trophy;
Feeling greatness in the single soul;
Looking beyond chapters
To the whole.

“And we believe and are sure that thou art

That Christ, the Son of the living God.”

And in the moment of admitting,
We finally kneel
Instead of quitting. It’s here that we
Know, He’s been kneeling with all men
Since Gethsemane.