Christmas Poem, 2017


The air was thin that night.

The atmosphere itself spread to nothing because Heaven pressed so close.

How could they even breathe, the two young parents,

Tired and trembling, whispering, worshipping,

Looking at Hope Himself, wrapped in glory like swaddling?

Angels burst into song, pulling breaths of Earth’s air into heavenly lungs

And in the manger, the baby took His first hour’s breaths:

Earth’s air into holy lungs.

Not since the Garden had holy bodies walked Earth.

Then, the Earth itself was pure, but this night

This promised night, the broken Earth reached toward Him with gladness,

Because the curse of sin was thinning.

Like the midnight air.

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