Star

When did this star begin its shine,
and did it entice earthbound eyes?
And did it travel over time
from when it first was called to rise?

Did sheep and shepherds find its glow
a comfort on that winter’s night?
Whilst camels gazed with clumsy tread,
and walked their wizards into light.

The Star, the Feather and the Child

One single feather, soft as dust,
glides slowly through this sacred space,
to fall before the young girl who
has heaven reflected in her face.

The boy is born and laid to rest
in wooden byre, in borrowed place;
but years from now, more wood, a hill,
a borrowed grave, a source of grace.

Yet now, one star shines from the dark.
To mark the path which all can trace.
So shepherds smile, innkeepers come,
and wizards kneel, their gods displaced.

This star, the child, the feather’s touch,
are tokens of a Father’s grace.
And with these gifts this Father heals,
redeems the history of our race.

The Epiphany

The gold which shines amidst the straw,
I’d use to feed and clothe the poor.
The frankincense, when burnt, will rise
like scented prayer before my eyes.
This myrrh has healing properties,
what fun I’d have with all of these.
I lie here now, my hunger gone,
and drift off gently, crying done.

How will these gifts from guests unknown,
affect me, once I’m fully grown?

The Camels Wonder

The camels cough and swagger on like drunken men,
and question the sobriety of these travellers –
who stumble on a journey with no end in sight,
but seek some treasure underneath a guiding light,
whose fire, so old in time, may be already night.

The mammals marvel at the thinking of these fools.
And snigger as they map read from the heaven’s veil.
They wonder at the wisdom which they claim to own
which leads them to inquire at tyrant’s bloodied throne,
if he has heard of any new kings lately born.

But now the dromedaries hear their riders gasp,
as crawling from the king they see their torch once more.
And, led by light, they push the stable door aside.
Their ageing hearts, once closed, are now thrown open wide.
Their darkness banished, sorrow nowhere left to hide.

Gift Laden but not so Wise

A camel’s cough, an infant’s cry,
a king’s enraged confusion; starry eyed,
the foreign envoys stumble on
and do not catch his unsaid thing;
and will not see, till Angels sing
a lullaby to change their path,
the star reflected in a drawn sword.

Gifts so lavish, unchild friendly,
symbolize but do not help;
illustrate but do not feed;
meet their yearnings not his need.
And thus, unknowingly, they prophesy.
This little king they seek to bless
will bless far more in every way.
Their largesse, scattered without thought,
is mirrored in his opposite.

His gifts, the ones we need but do not want.
received, rejected, ignored, lost;
trampled, discarded and forgotten;
but remaining offered,
and we can be the sharers.

Gold maybe seen in a sunrise.
Incense can fill a bluebell’s breath,
and myrrh, that healing touch of love
which sweetens even lonely death.

By Fr Mark Skelton.
A priest of the Plymouth Diocese and a poet who has always had a keen interest in the interface between Literature and Theology.

Related