Candlemas

One for Sunday’s Gospel:

The old man sees the end of woes
in these beginnings, meek and small.
His feeble arms hold heaven close:
this little life is life for all.
For God almighty weakness chose;
the Word has now no words to call
the ones he loves, but as he grows
he will become their rise and fall.

His mother hears the old man's word
that she herself a sword will pierce.
If she protested, no one heard,
and history holds not her fears.
Or if instead, for battle girt,
she let the words rain down as tears
and journeyed on in spite of hurt,
no whisper reaches now our ears.

But when the prophecies shall cease,
she'll bring her child back to her breast
to give the Word of heaven peace
and be her own creator's rest.
This is his comfort, this his ease
'til he should rise to face the test:
to win his helpless flock release
and open to them heaven blest.