Seven Joyful Mysteries

THE IMMACULATE CONCEPTION

A singularity of silence speaks
in emptiness of time, creates a void
of wholesome longing, a need which ever seeks
to know its source. It molds a gynaecoid 
receptacle worthy of itself,
so deep as to unbearable, so kind
as to commodious, a deepless well
in which infinity of good can find
untainted welcome formed by human need.
Before her breathing or the beating of her heart,
before the history of sin can plant its seed
a silent movement flowing through unchart-
ed depths selects this girl to know and sing
of all the prayers of every living thing.

THE ANNUNCIATION
Of all the prayers of every living thing
from Adam’s sob to Zechariah’s song
the sighing of the breaking morning’s breeze
and midnight’s weeping of a murdered wrong,
alone upon the earth her prayer was heard.
For every other plea pled for itself
and begged of God a sympathetic word
a ransom, healing or sufficient wealth.
But she alone prayed thy kingdom come
and let my people go her daily prayer.
Her constant watch and heartbeat’s steady drum, 
an irresistibly seductive peer-
ing to the reaches of infinity:
enticed thy grace to her fecundity.

THE VISITATION
Enticed, thy grace to her fecundity
discovered unexpected mother lodes
of courage in this woman-child. With glee
she braved the roads and disapproving scolds,
exploring fearlessly the angel’s bond.
She meant to witness in her cousin’s room
the wind-blown benefit so far beyond 
ancestral hopes, now seen in barren womb.
As ancient Betty hailed the queen of light
beneath the searching eyes of Roman rod 
and Mary sang the failure of the night,
the solstice child saluted solstice God.
No power of earth supposed what these four knew,
the Providence that loves the least is true. 

JESUS IS  BORN IN BETHLEHEM
The Providence that loves the least is true
especially to dwellers by the edge
where goods are scarce and services are few.
They wait upon the heads of state who pledge
to honor every sacrifice the poor
can make to keep the powerful in might;
but in their hearts they know they must endure
the claims of arrogance until the night
sky splits apart and angels sing of joy
beyond imagining. When heaven’s splend-
or floods the darkened plain and baby boy
lies swaddled in a cote they will attend
the one whose holy name, Messiah-Lord,
will calm discord and shatter every sword.

THE PRESENTATION IN THE TEMPLE

Will calm discord and shatter every sword
when forty days have passed, and Mary brings
her first-born to the temple? Will doddering hoard
of creeds dissolve and welcome infant things
to purify a world of stony hearts? 
An ancient seer snatched the infant from
the maid amazed and wept, “My life departs,
O Holy God, and now I must succumb
before the one whose coming was foretold.”
The widowed prophet Anna came upon
the company and saw her life unfold.
They sang to Zion’s anawim this song,
As Eli welcomed Hannah’s Samuél,
We bless thee God and greet Emmanuél. 

THE WORSHIP OF THE MAGI
We bless thee God and greet Emmanuél
Mysterious strangers whisper to the child.
The evening gloom hears joyous sobs wel-
ling up, but now they speak of rumors wild
that sweep Jerusalem, and hearings with
the priests and Levites and King Herod's court,
how churlish mobs recall the ancient myth 
of God's Messiah. Heeding their report,
and troubled by the fatal scent of myrrh
portending death to Rachel’s little ones,
Joseph startles up the night with her
his fainting wife and nursing babe; he runs
for Africa. But angels overhead
his every step protect where he is led. 

MARY AND JOSEPH DISCOVER JESUS IN THE TEMPLE
His every step protect where he is led,
but even angels marvel at his ways.
The joy of social gathering, he’ll shed
companionship to walk off in a daze
of absent-minded thoughtfulness; and yet
attentive, often wrapped in wonder at
the flight of bugs, the squirm of worms, the fret
of neighbors for their kin. In awe he sat
with elders, asking of God’s word, as he
the Word Made Flesh, opened visions for
their eyes. This twelve-years boy can see
the deep dimensions of the law and soar
beyond the fated year of seventy weeks --
A singularity of silence speaks.