the broken things

He was limitless

infinite

too huge to be understood

let alone confined

all-powerful

all-knowing

so He was sent to a

tiny speck of rock

in the deepness of space

forced into six-odd pounds of

what there they called flesh

and ‘baby’

to learn how to walk and

talk and fall down and

cry like any other

of the tiny mewling people

swarming across the earth 

—

she wasn’t perfect

but she was pure

perhaps not holy

but certainly humble

she was young and

innocent and

blameless

so He picked her

for the greatest honour

to ever fall upon

womankind

yet it threatened to tear her

apart

—

he was poor

but he loved her so much

and worked so hard

to give her

what she needed that

he felt like the mighty

kings of old

yet when she told him

about the child

his heart shattered

and he wished she had just

plunged a dagger into

him and finished the

job

—

they were not the mighty

people they once had

been

now they were a client-kingdom

under the heavy fist of

roman rule

their world was one of fear

chaos

darkness

bloodshed

turmoil

hate

anger

longing for the promised …

—

and there they stood

in the darkness

of a musty stable

the virgin bride and her

carpenter husband

in among the animals

waiting for the renewing

birth that had

threatened to be their

undoing

and when it came

they laid Him in a wooden box

full of straw

fending off the curious

hungry animals from the

red, squawling

infant crowned with a

mop of black hair

they wrapped him in rags

huddling together for warmth

exhausted from their journey

—

one gave up her reputation

another gave up his rights

while the third gave up all that

defined Him

so He could be born

to die

and call His people

out of darkness

—

these could be called the

broken things of Christmas

but sometimes things must

be broken

to be made

whole