Monday, December 09, 2013

I Wonder As I Wander

For years now I've tried to write a poem about the birth of Jesus, but the words just won't come. So, I wrote about not being able to write about it. Also, I love Jesus.

Waiting for Words

I listen to the song in my head
about a manger, wonder how
to write the Only Story.

Patient pen cradled in fingers,
wanders through holy lands of heart,
descends beside a stream of tears
into the silent night.

Lambs bleating on the hillside
disappear when I turn to look,
their keepers gone with them.
While men from the East move

toward redemption – their tale told
in beams of moonlight, while I walk
ancient roads, wordless, alone.
I watch dust blow away toward Bethlehem.

Still, still in the long dark
I hear a lullaby, lift my eyes,
hoping for a wise star.

Melody Newey © 2013


Emma J said...

So lovely. I feel closer to the Story in this poem than in many louder trumpet-proud Christmas poems.

Ann said...

This is so, so beautiful. Love these lines, Melody.

Julie DeMille said...

I think of the song line, "And, Jesus listening can hear, The songs I cannot sing."
Yet, you've sung it so well.