the women: nativity

by Liesel Skorpen
Someone, I think, in that bustling town
Simply knew when she was needed,
Set down her needle or a scoured pot
And turning went as was her calling.
For even the miracle of Word made flesh
Wanted knowing hands to wash and warm him.
A woman, yes, who had by heart that earthy catechism of beginnings.
Bearing, I think, the swaddling clothes
Worn thin with many washings
And bread - I think so -with a little wine?

Hark! from the East as a trumpet sounds
To herald the coming of The Kings
She slips away without a word
As silent as the morning star
What gift has she to give
Amid such Glory?