Fourth Sunday of Advent: A Poem

"Incarnation"

Unexpected proximity,
this nearness interrupting,
yet digestible.
Our minds able to wrap
    this arrival.
Incomprehensibility not
     our complaint.
It is the scandal, rather,
    of straw and blood.
The offense of ancestry.
A pungent odor
    of manure and sweat.
A condescension intolerable
so convergent
     upon flesh and bone.

This entry was posted by Richard Beck. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply