Jesus, the Lizard

I write lots of poems. I'm fascinated by the imagery and metaphor offered by my Christian faith. (Well, all faith ideas and language excite me, actually!) And when I'm angry, sad, searching, trying especially to stay put, I make these feeble attempts at seeing and identifying the immediate moment in some kind of image, some kind of language -- that creates or captures or conveys the Divine at play before my eyes.

So what follows is from this space of contemplative writing and prayer work. This falls on the heels of a series of Advent and Christmas poems, that perhaps someday will become a tiny collection for larger consumption.

Today. It's simply my prayer therapy.

If this speaks to you, let me know. Oh. I'm in a mood, you'll see. Dire, dark, doubting. Writing the poem is a form of exercise, (exorcise!)

Ultimately, all who read my blog are aware that light and joy and love cast out the dark. But tending to the dark, is vital for knowing illumination.

peace,
Melissa


"Jesus, the Lizard"

by Melissa Borgmann

Expectant of a pink or brown skinned baby,
(whatever tone your ethnicity invites you to imagine)
Writhing limbs, wrinkled and fresh from birth:
Arrival into this scene, onto the Earth!
Balmy babe with lungs that scream a divine song, "Hello!"

And I walk toward the star.
My own gifts in hand, (oil, matches, myrrh...all redundant.)
I'm glad for the wise company, of course, and this invitation from
the sky,
from dreams,
from God:
to follow.

We inch forward collectively.
Trusting each step in the sand,
the dissolution of no concern:
Faith tells us what is concrete and ahead.
And we step.

Arriving finally, peering into that space,
only to see:
Leathered horny flesh and tail -
Straw-bound and cradled,
an exhausted mother revealing nothing save for done-ness.

Imagine our dismay.