The birth

Haiku of wonder

When a king is born
the stories must reflect it
with wonder and awe.

Apart from angels,
this narrative is humble,
with a common cast.

Comes to Bethlehen,
the tradie with his girl-bride,
about to give birth.

A shed out the back
of a packed-out small-town pub.
Nothing flash in that!

A son is born, wrapped
in cloth strips and put to bed
in a feeding trough.

Shepherds get the news:
the Messiah has been born,
look for a baby.

This will be the sign:
a baby in a manger,
in David’s city.

The shepherds decamped
to see for themselves the child,
as they had been told.

They told ev’ryone
about the child, the one born
to save his people.

 

© Ken Rookes. 2018

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A wondrous yarn

Haiku of an often told story.

 

There are no records
of the birth of the Messiah;
just an old story.

An anxious couple
seeking a place of shelter.
The time is at hand.

In a crowded town,
a stable, strangely, becomes
maternity ward.

A baby is born,
this thing of joy and wonder.
Happens ev’ry day.

Shepherds tending sheep,
angels winging in the sky;
a fabulous yarn.

Go and check it out!
The baby in a manger,
with his mum and dad.

The infant is found;
it was as the angel said.
They are all amazed.

The shepherds return
singing, “Glory!” praising God,
They tell ev’ryone.

 

© Ken Rookes 2016

Micah from Moresheth

Micah from Moresheth,
in the region of Judah,
gave us Bethlehem as the location
for the birth of the Messiah.
Perhaps he stopped by at the little town
on his one-day journey to Jerusalem
to do his prophecy thing.
He posed a challenge for gospel writers,
Luke and Matthew:
how to arrange for Jesus from Nazareth
to be born in Bethlehem, three days to the south.
For the one, it was a census; for the other,
fear, a massacre, and the return to a new home
after refuge in a foreign land.
For the one, the drama of a stable birth
with flights of angels and bewildered shepherds.
For the other, a fearful escape
and the vulnerability of refugees.
They each give us reason to pause
and reflect upon the strange purposes
of an even stranger God.
I wonder, if Luke was writing today,
might it be the homeless and the hopeless,
camped beneath a bridge, who would be
the subjects of the angelic invitation?
I wonder, if Matthew was writing today,
would he write of the kindness
of the people-smugglers
who helped the Holy family
reach their place of welcome and safety?

© Ken Rookes
More poems for next Sunday can be found here and here