Wednesday, December 13, 2017

Mary, in the Last Trimester...

Until Christmas

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Sitting quietly in the dim glow of an oil lamp
trying to get comfortable
in the sturdy wooden arm chair
made by her carpenter husband
Mary rests both hands
upon her taut, round stomach
and smiles at the gentle rumbling within—
The Son of God in utero

Although this is centuries before sonograms
Mary knows her babe is a boy child
and that they are to name Him Jesus—
for an angel told her so

Young and bewildered, she wonders
what her holy Son will look like and be like
if he’ll want to work with wood
She wonders about the cosmic plan
set in motion by her “yes”
and how a savior saves

She dares not dwell too deeply
upon what lies ahead
and why so lowly a maiden as she
would be highly favored
by the Lord her God

but she trusts Him
…and she’s obedient

Joseph is a good man—
She watches as he sands smoothly
the fine cradle he is building
and appreciates that he stands by her
shielding her from questions, innuendos
finger-pointers and gossip mongers

Their donkey is tied outside
the humble dwelling in Nazareth
She hears it braying and nuzzling at the door

It’ll go with them tomorrow
on their journey to Bethlehem
where they must register
for the census

She sighs, thinking of the long
arduous journey
especially in her condition

Well, I’d better get some rest

she tells Joseph
as she rises awkwardly from the chair
and carries the lamp closer
to where her husband is working

I’ve packed a bundle of swaddling clothes
…just in case

Maude Carolan Pych

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