Wednesday, 18 April 2012


The old man chanted his words,
Recited his prayer ‑ you were the real
Priest: believer in your prayer,
Griever in your lack, conceiver of
The chosen harbinger, favoured receiver
Of the mother of your own Lord.
And what a son! Of women you
Hold distinction as the bearer of
The greatest born of women. John,
Zenith of one dispensation, star
Of another issued from your tenderness
To harshness of desert, rejection, prison;
To ecstasy of friendship with the Bridegroom.

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I'm glad to hear how this strikes you!