Union

 

who now knows by what divine art

the sacred star hovered over

the crèche that night

or what scare the virgin felt

entombed within it’s lonely light

her womb bursting with God’s life

coming to renew the race?

Scarred by men’s scorn, waiting on

our heart’s desire to be born

a heart-full of holy warmth

burns bright holes

in the side of mercy’s Lord,

drives the harrow deep in pity’s paths.

O Come lowliest of lonely ones

Dress the vine, burn the branches

bear the fruit, and bless the staunchest

observer of a stubborn law

with a flash of death in life:

prefiguring of life through death.

Vie for a riven world

to call each one your own.

Hear the whisper of the inner ear

and heed the tears of every heart tonight.

Humbled; bled; bonded and adored.

Only You can wipe the hearthstone clean

of disconsolate ash

breathe into the dust new life

kindle the clinkers

and tear the seams of eternity

to let the bright new angel in.