Your Advent:
The splendor of heaven left behind,
now surrounded by dirt and cow excrement.
Shrouds of glory abandoned
for strips of cloth
wrapped around you by a new mother
after she carefully wiped away vernix and after-birth.
Cries of “peace on earth” echoed across the hills
and in the ears of the lowliest;
the only announcement of your arrival.
Beauty for filth
Majesty for squalor
Grandeur for obscurity
All that we might celebrate our own advent.
