Advent

Longing is a wind-blown feather,
wafted softly,
landed when disappearing
distant sails of your ship,
gulls white wings winking,
setting sun reflecting,
vanished into sea-sky folding,

Now all creation groaning,
the kingdom yearning,
throne of thrones,
empty till your returning.

How quietly first you came
to Bethlehem stable,
quietly, a candle
set the world ablaze.

Quietly by miracle amaze,
furiously craze the synagogue
police
who crucified you to their gnashing
teeth scream spittle,
wielding for God’s law implacable
His jot and His tittle.

Spoiled death and decay
by resurrection,

now you’re gone,

so much undone,

Longing, landing like a feather,
breaks the world,
lifted when I glimpse
interim, here and there,
your likeness
in your adopted children.

Quietly to Bethlehem you came,
but trumpeted with shouts of men and angels
riding clouds of glory
you said the spectacle shall be
when you return.

And who shall stand?
my longing love,
who shall presume to stand?