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Jesus and the Child of Grace
In an old vineyard
When Jesus was just a lamb
His coat eight years old
Working with the chaste Joseph
His father and guide
As the beloved Mary
Kneeled and prayed to God
In their small and humble home
A visitor came
Golden and shining brightly
Like beams of sunlight
Shooting through the home’s window
Shooting from heaven
Shooting down from the clear heights
Mary beheld him
Thinking he was her young son
Putting off his coat
With gentleness the child said
“Where is dear Jesus
My dear brother and brave twin
I want to meet him”
Mary never responded
In fearful blindness
Thinking he was a phantom
From the lightless depths
Rather than light from the heights
She seized his right arm
And tied his arm to the foot
Of the worn, torn bed
Not wishing to scare her more
He remained at peace
Not saying a single word
During this event
Jesus held an empty branch
Observing the wood
As if it were a mirror
Soon he heard Mary
Jabbering in confusion
With tears raining down
In this dim storm of wailing
Jesus heard the words
Breaking through the whirling clouds
“A phantom has come
Dressed in golden apparel
Dressed in bright lightning
Saying “Where is dear Jesus
My twin and brother
I desire to see him”
Joseph please help me”
Only Jesus saw the light
And heard the thunder
For he had wise eyes to see
And had ears to hear
He proclaimed with holy strength
“Mother, where is he
So that I may see the light
Or should I wait here
Waiting for the bright sunlight
To break through this storm”
Jesus said these words in joy
Joseph was startled
Mary wiped away her tears
They entered the house
And found the spirit at peace
Still bound to the bed
Both the parents looked at him
Then looked at Jesus
And found them to be the same
Mary walked further
And unloosed the child angel
He bowed to Mary
He and Jesus said no words
For they were brothers
They hugged with their gentle arms
Gave a holy kiss
The angel child disappeared
For he and Jesus
Became one white pearl of light
Thus the empty branch
Bloomed with delicious almonds
Bloomed with holy life
Thus this town was sanctified
Crowned with golden, shining grace
Poem based on the account from the ancient apocryphal book The Pistis Sophia, Chapter 61.
Copyright ©
David Hyatt-Bickle
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