Christmas in the Stars

I thought wisdom was a book

that only certain men could read,

laws cut in stone by God’s finger,

a king’s secrets.

But she was a woman,

calling in the street

who everyone who passed by

pretended not to see.

She called the king a beggar

she called the rich man mad

she called the beauty crippled

she called the teacher dead.

And when she saw I listened,

she took my hand

and told me that although my life

was only a breath on a glass

God himself knew the number

of each hair on my head

and the name of every sparrow

fighting in the street for bread.

Then she led me through the city,

to see God, she said.

I looked for a palace, a theater, a court

but we came to an inn.

She walked past the front door

and stopped at the stable

where the ox and ass protested

as we stepped inside.

And a new mother looked up at us,

tears still in her eyes,

and wisdom looked back at me,

and pointed to the child.

Written by: my pal, Carey Wallace

(Photo: my son, Rhys-y, 1 minute after birth).