Poem I wrote last night. This precarious journey of Joseph and Mary. Precarious place for a Savior’s beginnings. Even less, a perfunctory plot point on the map of history. Still, we all yet call her home.
Bethlehem Bethlehem City of David Ephrath of old My home Village among the cliffs Your lamp has not gone out. Oh Bethlehem My heart How you keep the bones of Rachel You birth the sons of Jesse How you hide the men of valor Feed the lambs of sinners. Bethlehem Oh house of meat Your carved crags shelter shepherds Outside the Temple gates You oh house of bread Seal up your earthen doors. Oh Bethlehem Herod’s horses Herod’s swords Hide your infants Hide my heart Your lamp has not gone out There among the cliffs. Bethlehem Feed us all the prophet’s song Wherein your womb is moved Wherein the road does end “for unto you is born this day” Your shepherds bring us in. Oh Bethlehem All angels softly sing My journey home To Bethlehem My heart Oh light among the cliffs.