After the Massacre: A Christmas Poem


When it was accomplished,
and Herod’s soldiers returned from Bethlehem,
a silence settled over the land like frost.
The odd wailing, like the purposeless wind.
And it came to pass in those days that a mother,
after her child was discarded, like offal,
lay cradled over it, a horizon.
She spoke to the angels,
“Grant to my child your tongues of fire,
else stay silent!”
And it rained all over Ramah.
It has rained since.

About bobjanisdillon

Unitarian Universalist minister, poet, husband, father, three-chord guitar wonder.
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