The Magi

December 24, 1991|By Barbara M. Simon

On the other side of dawn,

in the empty shell of day,

we look back, across

the boundary of another year

dying. Words never spoken.

Commitments never made.

Prayers left unsaid.

We pull resolve around us

the way the wise men fixed

their gaze upon a star,

journeyed to a land

so foreign they stood speechless

before an infant whose light

burned them all into a faith

beyond language.

How needy we are, today

of a wisdom bound in silence,

of belief beyond barriers

to secure us

as the wise men sheltered

under a sky shot with silver,

blanketed by a baby's peaceful smile.

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