Legend of the Holly
The sky fractures, pushing back
clouds to field a star of wonder.
Three shadows reel toward Bethlehem.
An orphan weaves his wreath of holly,
ever-green leaves pricking stubby fingers
working the waiting through the night
of silence. Soon he will visit the manger,
his witness at once illumined, and the humble
space of sheltered light will warm the dark
places we slouch from. The crown will be
raised, the orphan's joy-fed tears suddenly
all berries turning crimson.
© 2012 Maureen E. Doallas
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3 comments:
Beautiful, especially the last line. All good wishes to you at Christmas, Maureen, here's to more poems in 2013.
Lovely poem for the season, Maureen. Happy Holidays!
Those last lines ... so piercing.
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