by Rebecca Weber
For centuries you look upon this town—
O distant moon—where generations keep
The covenant of Abraham; men weep
For sins that bulls’ and goats’ blood cannot drown.
Night after night, your shadows stare on brown
Brick homes where villagers, in restless sleep
Await the day Messiah’s reign will sweep
In light across the liturgies held in renown.
But O, tonight—what star climbs up your sky
Above the sheep-cave nestled in the hill?
And has a choir of morning stars begun
To sing a new creation song on high?
Fade out, O moon—your work fulfilled—
Behold the new-born rising of the sun.
Rebecca Weber is delighted to be a daughter of the King. She assumes her Swiss ancestors were weavers of cloth, but she is content to be a Nova Scotian weaver of words and a teacher, explorer, poet, dreamer, photographer, people person. She blogs at journeyintohislight.wordpress.com.
Photography by Kenneth Godoy