pictured words

a simple pairing of pictures and poetry

Tag: Baby Jesus

SACRED NIGHT

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In Bethlehem, did silent snow
fall soft upon a crèche,
that holy night when star aglow
announced God in the Flesh?

Although the chances may be slim
snow graced the Christ child’s birth,
it oft adorns Yule’s art and hymn,
as we fête Peace on Earth.

Perhaps it speaks of Spotless Lamb,
on silent, holy night —
Redeeming Gift of Great I Am,
reflecting Love’s Pure Light.

And though I may project snow dreams
on this most sacred eve,
I honor Babe whose love-light beams –
this One whom I believe.

© Marie Elena Good, 2018

A WOMAN, CALLED (Second Sonnet to Mary, Mother of God)

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And who would take my word, this pregnant teen,
Who claimed an angel visited my room,
To tell me God Himself had set the scene
To place His Very Son inside my womb?

And how could I say anything but “Yes,
Be done to me according to Your word.”
And how could I be anything but blessed,
When first The Living Word within me stirred.

And how was I to know that God’s own Son
Would start His life inside a feeding trough,
And end on crucifix  (would anyone?),
Exploited, battered, bartered, “crowned,” and scoffed.

And when I think my womb shared blood with God,
Who gave me life? I’m humbled, blessed, and awed.

 

© Marie Elena Good, 2017

HOW SILENT?

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Photo: Marie Elena Good

As cattle low and donkeys bray,
A worried man begins to pray.
“She’s weary, Lord, and birth pains loom,
We need an Inn, but none have room.”
A stable with a bed of hay
Affords them with a place to stay.
 
She lies amongst the bleating sheep –
Where there she finds no peace for sleep.
The hour of our Savior’s birth
Sweet angel voices sing His worth,
While Satan howls – himself, enraged
In knowing that a war’s been waged
A war the Babe Himself will win –
To free us from our senseless sin.
 
Beneath the sacred star-lit night,
How silent was that holy night?
 
 
(C) Marie Elena Good, 2010
 

WHAT GOD IS THIS?

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Nativity by Gertrude Kasebier c 1901

Following the angel’s appearance months ago,
A young woman – mystified, yet willing –

Subjected herself to ridicule

While readying for the baby whose presence

Began making itself evident.
 

Then came the night
On the heels of a long and arduous journey

In humbleness of setting and witness.
 

How prepared was the young woman’s weary body
And emotion-laden heart

For the miracle of birth,
Let alone this Miracle of Birth – this holy night

That culminates in pulling her newborn son to her breast,

Offering life-giving milk

To the very One who created life,

And came to offer it eternal.
 

What God is this who would choose this humble,
Implausible means

Out of love for a sinner?
 

My God. 

My God…

 

©  2013, Marie Elena Good