The Weight of the Ordinary
surely the child wasn’t born
in a whisper
in silence
golden light all around
she must have groaned
as she pushed
sweat and tears
falling onto the bed of hay
it would have been dark
unblemished shadows
just a lantern with a candle
dim light for a dim time
he would have held her hands
sat behind her
his shins a platform of love
a wall to gather strength from
faith must have been there
in the groaning
in the sweat
in the blood
it always is
faith that the child will arrive
crying out after that
first spontaneous in-breath
this night is balanced
on the razor’s sharp edge
one side an ordinary birth
the other a miracle
Pamela Olson, 12/24/08
“faith, whisper, miracle”
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