The Birth

The dark cloud disappeared in the black night:

a strange bright star lit the sky with candles.
Arriving too late to find rooms, for naught,
they lay with the animals in stables.
Both anxious to end their predicament,
aching, drained of everything but spirit,
unprepared for what must be heaven sent,
fearful they were not anywhere near it,
he held her hands as she closed her eyes
and suffered through the first contraction.
“God help me?” he asks as his woman cries,
unaware of the perilous question.
Exhausted, numb, like anybody would,
overwhelmed by all that’s misunderstood.

Merry Xmas

Ben Gage