Remembering Jesus. John Leax

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      Luke 2:13–14

      As winter cold leans hard upon my back,

      I long for once-upon-a-time when I

      Was small enough my elders watched the black

      Night through and let me sleep. Only the cry

      Of the ewe in lambing time caused them to make

      Me rise; my hands were small to ease a birth.

      I minded them and rose. This night I shake

      Beside the fire. Wind blowing from the north,

      Disturbs the boy I used to be. No stars

      Blanket his sleep. Once to voices brilliant

      In light I woke. We found a child not far

      From where we kept our sheep. Rough celebrants,

      We woke his mother from her careful rest.

      Like a lamb newborn he nestled at her breast.

      In Rama There Was a Voice

      Matthew 2:16–18

      “The king requires your son,” I said. No more

      Herself than a child, the infant’s mother turned

      Her head. Her hand closed white against the door.

      She knew an end had come. Her silence earned

      Her mercy I refused. I took the life

      She held and stepped outside. How does one kill

      Before a mother’s eye? Not with sword or knife.

      Not with thrusts that once begun would fill

      A street with blood. I cradled the infant

      And mouthed into its ear a lullaby.

      Over its puckered mouth I closed a tyrant’s

      Frightened hand. I squeezed so it could not cry.

      The mother-child clutched my arm. The night

      Became a winding sheet. There was no light.

      Resurrection Song: With Money in their Hands

      Matthew 29: 11–15

      What you must say you won’t find hard

      The elders told the hapless guards:

      Say He was stolen while we slept.

      His thieves will spin the world, except

      We make a truth of our canard.

      No judge will find your sluggard

      Hour fair cause to launch hard

      Words at you or to suspect

      What you must say.

      The guards obeyed the elders’ word

      And told of bodies, haggard

      And overcome when starless night crept

      Round the stone-locked crypt.

      With money in their hands it was not hard

      To say what they would say.

      Recognition

      John 2: 14–15

      Luke 2: 48

      There was, I thought, something about the man

      Familiar, an image pressed on the coin

      Of memory. But slow, afraid I’d join

      The fallen under toppled tables, I ran.

      I’m sure, now, I needn’t have. His harsh whip

      Sought the rash of thieving profiteers

      Hawking oxen, sheep, and pigeons, their sneers

      Mocking country pilgrims come to worship.

      I crept back when breath returned. Around

      Him stood the Pharisees. His zealousness

      For the Father’s house brought back a scene. Years

      Ago I watched a quiet boy confound

      The elders. As then, I saw his brightness

      Was a sword. His mother’s love would end in tears.

      Zebedee

      Matthew 4:21–22

      Two sons I gave the Lord. Not willingly.

      Our shadows stretched across the narrow shelf

      To where the deep water darkens Galilee.

      The night of labor ended, I knew myself

      As blessed. Two faithful sons, a crew of hands

      To pull a weight of fish that I alone

      Would lose. Such easy work to give commands!

      Such joy to see them jump. The light that shone

      Upon my back was good. A net profit

      Rose each morning. Laughter filled each day.

      Then Jesus, working the rocky shore, thought

      To call, “James, John.” They left my net, my way,

      And followed. Risen, he calls me, “Zebedee,”

      And keeps me mending nets beside the sea.

      The Sixth Man

      John 6:34

      I was a taking sort of man and she

      A woman, worn by giving, satisfied

      To trade a mockery of love. Her fee—

      Nothing elaborate, a place beside

      Another, a protective touch, a hand

      Restrained when annoyance СКАЧАТЬ