Silent night?
I can’t imagine
It was so:
Instead
The distant murmur
from passing crowds;
The whisper of
Joseph’s anxious reassurance,
And Mary, I am sure,
Cried out in childbirth
Like any woman.
As to little Lord Jesus -
I’m certain
Crying he made
From newborn need.
There is no need
For sentiment:
It will not touch
Our aching world.
Instead,
Into the gritty reality
God comes:
The loudest shout
Of glorious love
And unrelenting grace.
Poem by Jeannie Kendall, reproduced with permission
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