It is said, the end of a thing is in the beginning.
There were angels in both places:
at first they frightened shepherds;
at the end, angels hid their faces.
There was wood: a silken worn stable;
later, a raw, splintered cross.
There was a mother, frightened, pale, in pain
who melted at the wonder of God in flesh.
I wonder if she later froze seeing
her son’s flesh beaten and staked.
Heaven gifted her a child
and hell tortured heaven’s gift.
Legend says a donkey brought him to his birthplace;
Scripture records a donkey bore him to his death place.
A high priest praised and prophesied;
high priests betrayed and reviled.
Great rulers came first to worship.
Great rulers came last to mock.
A young father watched and prayed in Bethlehem;
An eternal Father forsook in Jerusalem.
A child was saved while innocents were murdered;
a man was murdered for innocence to be saved.
A life ended in death
so death would be ended—
And all could be reborn.
He who descended in frailty
ascended in victory
And He will come again.
Copyright © 2019 Cynthia Storrs
Cynthia Storrs currently writes near Nashville. She considers herself an amateur at yoga, poetry, and literary criticism, but an authority on Belgian chocolate.