And she looked down at the little one,
Her child, tired from her labor,
Head and shoulders sagging under
The armor and helm she wore,
The baby in her arms wrapped in rags,
Flecks of blood still in his hair.
An ocean opened up inside her
Of joy and grief commingled,
Knowing beyond knowledge
What awaits her and this child,
But that she is of him, and he of her,
And so then it was enough.
The wind whistled through the stable cracks,
Joseph, brave Joseph, who
Had withstood so much ridicule, slept
On the ground beside them.
In the end, nothing could protect
Them, not the stable walls, not
Her armor, not Joseph. There would
Be nothing but to love, and love hard.
Bending down, there, in the dark,
Mariam put her mouth
Near the ear of the sleeping one,
Kissed it, and whispered:
“Looks like it is you and me, kid.”