by Zach Kincaid
“This thing that has happened” they go to find out, on a night of raining angels.
If true, then hosannas echo in gravity’s ears,
”the first day is here again. The omnipresent
weights insides time, descending into Mary’s womb.”
If true, then it draws down fiery guards,
and pulls Eden into married view–
new, uncreated breath, breath of breath,
begotten not made, true God of true God.
Born to calm the storms and spit on the dirt so we can see.
But our hearts deceive us; our minds are double-crossed
by blunted wants and not a stark need to fall into
the foolishness that encounters the incarnate God.
See the Son of God. He is Joseph’s and Mary’s son.
He plays under a ruptured sky, as a single star
drops in slow motion to signal the birth of a dying Messiah,
who breaks open his body for you and for me.
This thing that has happened is the moment that shapes every thing.