Unto us a son is given:
In a home birth, far away from home,
Birthweight unknown,
Apgar score unchecked,
and Love speaks in a weak, thin newborn cry.
Unto us a son is given,
And they came.
Not the respectable townsfolk, reputation-wrapped,
But the rough guys from the sheep pens
Knives in belts,
And accents thick as grease,
Clomping their way into the Holy Place,
Tongue tied and awkward
Muttering of angels,
Seeing something there
That overwhelmed strong men.
Unto us a son is given:
In the deeps of the night
Cutting the starlit silence
While men slept their banal sleep
And only angels watched
Unto us a son is given.
When he came
We did not know what to do with him.
Indifference, doubt,
Rejection, torture, death.
Only a few
Shaken from sleep,
Saw the whole thing through
Amazed with much amazement.
Unto us a son is given
Given still
That we might come
Come see what God has done
What God is doing
And what God will do
Through the most ordinary
Love breaks through
And we are born anew.
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