Sleep, infant, sleep
among the oxen and the sheep
which kneel before your manger.
Welcome to danger.
When you become a man
preach us the Good News while you can
before you bear the scourge and cross,
an everlasting loss
we all bear to the grave
with guilt. It was your doom to save
us sinners, us ungodly men
whose sins slay you again.
You could have claimed your own
Egypt, a Pharaoh’s golden throne.
Instead, child, you are humbly born
as Gabriel blows his horn.
YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE
How to Belong Without Losing Oneself
Whenever someone like Candace Owens or Nick Fuentes posts “ragebait,” it’s not difficult to predict how my…
Can These Bones Live?
The Saturday after Easter, on a cloudless morning, I fell and shattered my left elbow while taking…
Paul Celan’s Via Negativa
In the twentieth century the messengers shot themselves. Most did so metaphorically, of course, though a few…
