variations on a midnight clear. a poem. for advent.

Amy K. Sorrells

where’s the glory in midnight?
the song of old tells of a girl
bewildered and drenched with the sweat of a crowning infant
Who
would be
King
a baby’s fingers curled around the tip of hers
a reflex as all creation presses against the palm of the
Divine

*

where’s the clarity in darkness?
the crushing load all we can bear
without risking the dashed hope of salvation
hearts cloven by injustice
afraid
to trust
Light
bending low under glad and golden hours
watching darkness, too swift, hastening on
stillness

*

where at last it comes upon us
the forte of Babel’s noise no
match against the full on refrain of a love-song
chords swaddling our toiling souls
God-Man
unfurled
bent
into the shape of our brokenness
stepping into the form of our decadent filth
Beloved

*****

shepherds_angels 2

Painting by He Qi, a professor at the Nanjing Union Theological Seminary and…

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