25 December: Christmas

acrobats 

 Can he who hurls the lightening from the top

and swirls the rain,

disarm us with a baby’s grin and stop

earth’s spin?  Then start again?

Can he be like a jester – on his head –

quite turned around?

Or is it us – bewildered thoughts unsaid –

who’re upside down?

 

Of course, the problem’s us and not with God.

We think we Know.

We think our view is true – and his plain odd.

But he’s below

so far is he above.  He is a mite,

so vast is he,

so full of life as to become finite –

a non-entity:

 

an infant God.  And poor, do not forget.

So strange, this tale.

We hear it year by year and love it, yet

we simply fail

to follow footsteps leading down.  We fall

instead – yes, all –

which is as well because the paradox, recall,

is this: God’s small.

SJC

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Filed under Daily Reflections, poetry

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