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Ema Kenyon | + Follow Poet |
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Inherited, Everlasting, Bountiful

inherited
everlasting 
bountiful 

there is no
shining sun
because it is not 
the sun’s turn
to shine. 
instead these stars 
glisten
and sparkle
from heavens 
we stretch our arms
and faith
to touch
and shine down
on this earth,
this divine planet,
which houses the baby
who has already
inherited
the weight of the world
and it’s humans
and it’s human sins. 
this manger feels
too soft,
too first-breath fresh
for me to not feel
the contrast
of a pure 
and golden Son
against a cruel 
and unforgiving 
backdrop of crimes 
of flesh and guts. 
his mother is weeping,
tears of exhaustion
from hours of birth
and tears of joy
from being the mother
of the Savior, 
and my heart crescendos
to see
a bruised and crying babe
amongst soft cascades
of gold 
and frankincense
 and myrrh. 
joseph himself,
the father of the son
of the Father,
idles at the top 
of the trough with a hand 
on the top of
his first child’s head
and smiles at us
with a comforting sweeping gesture
meant to drive us closer. 
my feet and 
my soul 
ache to crawl;
to fall to my knees
and drag myself to the edge
of the hay
littering
this impromptu church
and bow my head to 
worship
the everlasting light
and love
and redemption
of my newborn Deliverer
jesus christ. 
as i reach the edge
of this makeshift crib
i am blessed
upon blessings
to see the small upturn
of the messiah’s lips
as he finally
succumbs to the first slumber
of a righteous 
and bountiful life 
filled with whores
and betrayal
and forgiveness
and adoration so rich it pours
from his eyes 
and his mouth
and his hands
to heal his people 
and bring us joy
because our lord God
deigned us able to save,
if only we have the
heart to change. 

and when his life ends,
blood dripping down an unrelentingly
strong brow from
beneath a crude crown of thorns,
hands and feet
impaled against cedar,
pine,
and cypress 
grown upon,
 within,
 his Father’s
green earth,
this divine planet,
ribs broken open
by spears declared
the unrepentant
love and light and forgiveness
of the true Jehovah
and shined down on us
the shame and irony
of killing the man
meant to save us from 
murder.

Copyright © Ema Kenyon | Year Posted 2017

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