MARY'S STORY

Shepherds came, bringing a lamb,

when they heard of our plight.

At least, today, we would eat.

One holds my hand

And the mumble of their voices

fade as I drift off to sleep.

Joseph's gentle laughing,

And I hear one of them say,

"He is so sweet."

My newborn, snuffly, son.

Kind men, honest men, simple men.

And I thank God for them.

I am woken by the innkeeper's wife

bringing stew.

She makes me eat

and helps me suckle the baby.

She has brought a shawl for him

and wraps him tight, cooing and rocking,

and lays him back in the manger.

He sleeps.

She has brought lamps

And as it darkens Joseph lights them

then comes to sit by me,

his arms around me, holding me close.

Love in his eyes, but also fear,

uncertainty, doubt.

We plan our journey, in whispers,

Back to Nazareth.

We sleep.

Some noise stirs me.

A scraping of the cowshed door,

and I shake my husband awake.

They came to me, these men.

Resplendent, like men I had never seen before

Rich clothes, and jewels on their fingers

and knelt before me in the straw.

This hovel

With my babe in a makeshift cradle

So tired, I lay back and think I am dreaming

these men.

They tell me they have followed a star

to where we are.

It makes no sense to me.

But they are finely dressed,

so not madmen or fools.

They bring gold and oils

And shuffle on their knees to the manger

Where they speak a strange tongue

And lean in to touch him.

Then one of them murmurs,

"He has come, he has come."

I call to Joseph to bring the boy,

scared they will steal him from me.

Cuddle him close

so none can take him.

My precious son.

But they leave, laying gifts beside me.

Gold, which we have need of.

Frankincense for celebration, for joy.

Dripped into bathing water

to purify and perfume.

And myrrh

I wish they had not brought the myrrh.

It darkens me with dread

The final wash of the dead

When we go I shall take up the babe

and our few possessions,

and leave it here, buried in the straw.

For the cows to sniff at.

For others, perhaps, to find and sell.

But not for us.

Joseph laughs at me

flapping his hands at old wives' tales

But in the dark, in shuttered sight,

Came to me, creeping in my soul,

Words unsaid, or words forgotten.

Words I should have known

I cry and lie awake all night

Longing for the morning light.

~

And now, a lifetime gone, I lay,

despairing of another day.

I should have known.

I should have found him some sweet bride,

to keep him always by my side.

Not let him roam.

I should have stabled him

I should have known.