Christmas Eve (12/24/11)
Christmas Eve, so many questions
“Christ will come,” we sing.
The moment draws near.
I ask: Will He?
Have I readied the largest room,
the chamber of my heart…
or at least some small space?
Am I ready to birth a divine child from my womb?
What will she look like?
Will her eyes and ears be open?
Will I be able to tolerate the brilliance of the night sky?
How shall I ready the stable?
Mother and Father inside me…
Do you know how to raise her?
Are the wise men awake
and will they know her
when she speaks?
And what of my fears,
do they brandish Herod’s sword?
She's no king! Who does she think she is?
She should be ashamed of herself.
She'll fail, she’s fat. She is crazy!
She doesn’t know what she’s doing.
She will surely die.
No, I think not,
She will find safety here.
The fire is lit.
It won't go out.
I can make a place for God to be born.
And I will birth Her.
All of you, please
make a pact with me:
let her live and I will too.
Cathy Cuenin 2002, revisited 2011