Poem December 22, 1997 Issue

Christmas promise

Linda Laird Giedl

From hidden precincts of the heart
to tempting beauties of the earth,
what proof of goodness
speaks
above the din of pain,
of self and strife?

Not scent rising in June's moist air
over rose-trellised cottages;
nor warmth rising from fire and hearth
on "windchill" mornings.

Not star rising toward Bethlehem shed,
before shepherds and kings,
but Christ,
rising in silent hope, anciently known
and with us now—
a strong hand, beckoning,
a ready ear, listening,
a true friend, watching,
a radiant thought, dawning—
to break the spirit's fall
and lift it up again.

Christmas promise:
goodness rising—
each day with us:
Immanuel ... with us,
loving,
healing.