After Luke 2:22-38
Aged, and aging still,
each day I feel the creak
and rub and grind of bones,
infirmities of growing old,
but not yet old enough, hair
fading and gray, back
beginning to arc into stooping,
but not yet old enough,
not yet ready to be embraced
and wrapped by the shroud,
not yet, not until I see
the one, the king, not
just another baby or child,
but the One.
It was promised.
Photograph by Omar Lopez via Unsplash. Used with permission.
2 comments:
Beautiful poetry to describe one of the most fascinating events portrayed in scripture. Two old people hand chosen by God to give a simple but beautiful witness.
God bless you and your work.
James, thank you so much!
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