O Thou who always art all everywhere
Art now confined in this small space, defined
By skin and muscle, skeleton; you wear
A baby’s face—eyes, cheeks, chin, lips like wine
Or blood. Beneath your tiny breastbone beats
Within your newborn flesh a human heart:
In Thou, O Son, the heart of humans meets
God’s heart and beats anew. And though in part
I see and know, I yet see face to face
Because you cloister in this skin, this straw-
Strewn crib, this cattle stall, this lowly place
Particular, grim, but glimmering now
With Thou, O Thou, dear bound unbounded All,
Thou tabernacling fleshed Emmanuel.
This poem originally appeared in the Nov/Dec 2016/Jan 2017 issue of Weavings. It is reprinted here by permission of the author.
K.C. Ireton is the author of The Circle of Seasons: Meeting God in the Church Year and Cracking Up: A Postpartum Faith Crisis. An avid reader, she is especially fond of old books and home-schools her four children so that she can spend her days reading and learning all sorts of interesting things. K.C. is pleased as punch to be writing for The Cultivating Project!
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