by Paul Hooker
When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go now to Bethlehem….”
What proximate apocalypse arrives tomorrow?
Lost key lost love cancer butterfly extinction
blood on the floor of schoolyards sanctuaries—
must we endure yet more of heaven’s plan?
Do you dare to raise your eyes, peek between
the stars to see the angels turn for home
after they have rearranged your dreams?
After the dream comes the dark.
“Be not afraid”: why do the blessèd say this
when the only reasonable response is fear
or maybe flight if you can make your feet work?
Are you not supposed to fear the beast?
When you meet a bear—or host of angels—
and your back’s against the wall, will you stand
your ground before the feral claws of glory?
After the glory comes the dark.
Do you yearn to leave the sheep and wander
into town to search for manger mother
child aglow with heaven’s subtle light;
leave the eastern palaces to track a star,
offer homage at the hard world’s fraying edge;
leave the boats and nets and trail a migrant
preacher pinned like a butterfly to a cross?
After the cross comes the dark.
And who knows what might happen in the dark?
* “Adventus” is a Latin word meaning, “arrival” or “coming.” It is the word from which English draws the term, “Advent.” Christians use the latter term to describe their expectant hope for the arrival of God’s kingdom’s arrival raises more questions than it answers.
This poem was originally published at ecclesio.com on 12 December 2017. PKH