Eddies of light twirl in silence when a star passes between us.
Mary does her work. Joseph keeps his word. Jesus comes against odds.
Daybreak moves through dust-laden air, but we’re not there to see the stable,
or feel the straw. We’ve made our way to a time and place where nothing
magic seems to happen anymore. Caught in the current, we are swaddled
in mystery. [But we were before the stars.] We are the sound of water
beneath grass on a hillside where shepherds watch their flocks.
We are eddies of redemption flowing around sand and rocks,
down the Kidron, to a basin where Jesus washes feet.
We are clouds and thunder, a prayer in the rent sky.
We are the noise in darkened heavens, each her own lullaby,
while the baby sheds His tears, cries midnight out of this world.
Art: Distillation of Matter by Jenna von Benedikt.
*Kidron valley, Kidron brook.