Once more, watching within these walls
I see that star of Bethlehem
and the three wise men
but this small angel, who is she?
Silver laced throughout her hair
hands clasped in her lap
waiting for her turn to speak.
I see you search the congregation.
Who are you looking for?
Who promised to come?
Your practised manner gives little away.
I catch your eye briefly
a vague recognition crosses your brow
and then you smile, slightly unsure
like dawn arriving a little too soon.
Your voice is crystal clear in youth
passing easily through this damp space
and for that single moment in time
all absence is forgotten.
Stay close to this, little one.
In later life, when you stand alone
when your children are swept away from you
there will rise again
© Miakoda 2006
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