Here we are in the middle of the 12 days of Christmas. Eight maids amilking, seven swans a swimming, six geese a laying, five golden rings. So goes the song, but the original story focuseson the magi. And so do we here. As we watchthese days go by we recognize that we like the magi are on a journey? Do weknow what journey we are on? As individuals? As a community? And what gives us hope for that journey?
Dusty Camels
Pilgrim magi
On slow paced
Dusty camels
Past sparsely spaced
Dry leafed trees
Years blow by them
Dry, bone brittle
Hope leached out
And still they ride
Clanging of caravan
Continual shouting
Cloth wrapped around
Seals out nothing
And still they ride
Home thoughts
Migrate on the wings of
Longing for what never was.
And still they ride.
One dare not sigh, against
Sand's forceful entry
And still they ride
Harboring gifts
Hopes wrapped up
For life long journey
And so they ride.
Evening rest
Smells of sheep stew,
Sweat, and
Camel dung
Momentary relief
From reaching toward
possible nothing
Endless ground darkness
Firelit quiet
Magnified echo in the
Ferocious star
Demands their attention
To this illogical journey