What Gabriel Saw

I like to take a break from blogging over Christmas since both you and I need time away from our computers to focus on our families during Advent and Christmas. I’m looking forward to reconnecting with you all again in the New Year. Enjoy this last piece for this year.

One of my favorite poets is Violet Nesdoly, of Langley, BC. I featured her Christmas poem some years ago and am posting it again. Here is her introduction and her free style poem:

“Of all the characters in the Christmas story, God the Father is the One we think of the least. Of course, we know that without Him the incarnation would never have happened.

So how did He handle the gestation and birth of His only Son? I imagine that for Him it was not unlike how it is for fathers everywhere.

Here’s what the angel Gabriel saw.”

The Son vanishes just after I am sent
to the Galilean virgin
and heaven isn’t the same.
Gone the laughter, mischief, hijinks.
Music replaced by silence
all monochromatic, sober
like the life of the party has left
and we don’t have the will
to keep partying or to go home.

The Almighty’s been moody since then
broods like never before
over calendars and seasons
looks down a lot, mostly toward Nazareth
at this blossoming virgin-still
and her earthmate.

The day this couple sets off down the road
He starts pacing      pacing       pacing
When they get to Bethlehem
it’s pace-pace-pace
then He pauses         Hush!

All the hosts of heaven stop their chatter
crowd behind Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, David
peer over the balcony
focus on a dark building
near a sign that blinks  Sorry – No Vacancy.
It’s so quiet you can hear the stars hum.

Then cutting the night
tiny and tremulous
A-wah   a-wah   a-wah   a-wah

The Almighty laughs His magnificence
tosses His glory, flings His radiance
and then starts handing out cig— no, trumpets
to every angel within arm’s reach
Go tell somebody, anybody!

After they’ve left He asks for the bubbly
shakes it up
pops the cork
sprays it all over heaven.

© 2004 by Violet Nesdoly.  Used with permission.See more of Violet’s writing at www.violetnesdoly.com

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