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all that sleeps
sleeps yet in Bethlehem
and must awaken there
behind closed gate
hear past itself the trumpeter
that no ear hears
call past itself to life
what it must live;
then by what power
forms such light
engender
at its waning moon
and close of eye
and what by holy vigil
waits through such decembering
preceding you
seen past, seen through, unknown

all that Mary held within the womb
she held (like you and I)
under the heart
its past still present;
an ensouled, a labor
three times dark
with little room
to bear this birth
which sleeps in all
and opens us to each