Waiting Turned to Witness
When the Word became flesh,
it was the women
who knew what expectation meant—
the circle begins as it ends
in the witness of women.
Zechariah heard but bent like a bitter reed, and
was reduced to scratching
out his son’s name in cowed obedience.
It was Elizabeth who bloomed
as God’s pledge became her promise.
Years of waiting fell away in an instant.
Joseph dreamt,
absorbed the news of the holy
without a word. Mutely
he put his shoulder to the wheel,
while his beloved wove her rebel song
like a garland. This choice was not his.
It was Mary
who answered Gabriel’s thunder with assent.
After pondering
how this could be? nonetheless affirmed
“Let it be for me
as you have said,” knowing
the costs of sacred favor were immediate. Striding
into the horizon torn wide
as full partner and God-bearer, Mary held
joy and pain in equipoise, resolute.
She hailed Elizabeth
exulting, and together
they were willing to inhabit
what others called impossible:
the manifestation
of holy wisdom as wholly human,
vulnerable, radiating mercy.
Waiting turned to witness:
Sleepers awake!
God is among us
pulling down the thrones of injustice,
filling the bellies of the hungry
slaking those who thirst for hope.
Zechariah took notes
in another room, gratefully.
In time fulfilled, even as the stars danced close,
and strangers followed her song on the breeze,
Mary brought forth eternity
yawning and burrowing
into his mother’s breast
at his longed-for arrival.
