A Poem for Advent

The author of this poem, A. D. Everingham, is a Canadian brother in Christ whom I met online.  His blog is entitled Hyperbolic Mediocrity.  Some people prefer more rhyme and rhythm (me included), but I hope you appreciate this one.

Adventu

Forgive the land it is barren and demoralized

it is inverted and crucified like St. Peter

but in shape and form only

for St. Peter was anything but hopeless



Forgive the forgeries that are scratched in the dust

by the shiny little onyx beaks of bastard crows

who die in the wind which lifts from the wasteland

hurling them against the side of the huntsman’s brow



Forgive the behemoth beholden to Job

when from the midst of the whirlwind the Lord

the Lord

the Lord



Forgive the dry vessels whose parched clay hips

are inscribed with insurrection

as thirty gallons of emptiness proclaim

the inauguration of the Kingdom



Await we now in silent wonder



receiving forgiveness and the

bleeding heart to forgive which is

pierced

by this taught wire strung across

the loom between two holy Advents:

one which the Temple

passed through a womb, a feeding trough

a cross and a stone

and one we await in prayerful anticipation

while in the now and not yet

we, the drowned, are succored by the breath

of the Lord

the Lord