16)Michelle H: Mild He Lays His Glory

Mild, He Lays His Glory By 

 Meditation on a Line from "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing"

Was it shaken off simply, 

like dew 

from a lamb's fleece? 

Or laid by, folded neatly 

like linens 

on a stone? 

How did God separate 

Himself from stars 

to slum in sinew, 

leave Power simply 

lying in its place? 

Did He thunder and tear into Time, 

or was it soundless as a falling star?

If the Glory shed from You like dust 

when You slipped beneath 

the surface 

into womb and world, 

Then what was left 

          but us?

Surely, how you set aside 

your birthlessness 

to be a son 

is a mystery too great. 

But this we know - 

You wrapped yourself in our world, 

walked into crowded inns and closed hearts, 

stepped into cells and stink and surrender. 

Your Glory not cast off 

but underground, 

Gone to seed - 

Buried deep in veins 

like roots, 

and through touch 

tendrilling hearts to heaven.

All that Eternity still spread 

through your bread-needing body, 

reaching, 

for the stuff of sin itself, 

fingers curling 

once more 

into dust. 

Roots working beneath the curse, 

breaking concrete from below - 

raising sons 

of earth.

Michelle H. is a courageous woman, an excellent writer and a passionate lit teacher based in Colorado Springs.