He felt cold.
The first strange thing…
And he shivered like a God had never done.
He felt hunger from the journey
Such an unfamiliar weakness
Something wanting
Something needed
And—as feelings go—another unknown one.
He felt rigid pain, swaddled cramping.
Heard the sounds of sobs and shouting,
He saw those too poor to matter as they gathered mute and awed
And the smell of field and fold knelt around his newborn soul
As they worshiped him and wondered how a baby could be God.
No one interfered to hinder their first uncertain touch:
“He’s a human! and so fragile!”
“He's a human--one of us!”
“Why would God trade endless splendor for a vapor and decay?”
He felt cold.
It was morning.
Another first—a very early, cold and hungry Christmas Day.
I wrote this very early Monday morning--December 21, 2009...and adapted it for the
Three Word Wednesday Prompt-Rigid, Journey, Hinder I posted it here, because I wanted it to be up for Christmas Day.
