Slouching Towards Bethlehem

The stone slides shut upon an empty cave,
where women knit their clothes and choke back cries–
a life returned out of an unknown grave,
a son surrendered up from whips and ties.

Surrendered up, unkissed, to where the least
of dregs and scraps – a miracle – combine
into the blood and body of a feast,
foreshadowing how love may conquer time:

how waters flow back from a mirrored road,
and dead men, uncomplaining, leave the light;
as moneylenders settle what they’re owed,
while worlds turn widdershins for forty nights.

All carpenters clutch fists of unbent nails.
All stables swallow up these earthly tales.