I have a soft spot
for the newly born,
the homeless, and the lost
looking up at the stars.
Forget judgement, the law
and being born again;
this is all about straw,
sheep, and a place to sleep.
In early December my mother
would unpack the trim,
little wooden shed she’d
sawed and nailed together.
In it she’d pose the plaster angels,
animals, and gathered humans.
I am done with any hope
not born of this world, but I’ll stop
in silence to look at a crèche:
animals at rest, tired shepherds
kneeling, elegant sojourners
holding gifts, little exiled family,
and my mother like God
fixing one bright star above it
on a strand of fishing line
so thin it was almost invisible.
_______________
Matthew Murrey is the author of Bulletproof (Jacar Press, 2019). His poems can be found in The Shore, Whale Road Review, EcoTheo Review, and elsewhere. He was a school librarian for 21 years, and lives in Urbana, IL with his partner. His website is at https://www.matthewmurrey.net/.
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