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Advent of Becoming

For these things I weep; my eyes flow with tears;
for a comforter is far from me,
one to revive my courage;
my children are desolate, for the enemy has prevailed.
Lamentations 1:16

God meets hurting earth and a Child is born;
what does this mean for a world sorely torn?
What can Holy One up there be thinking?
Daily tremendous sorrows and pain borne,
our stated hope in God – is it shrinking?
Are we relishing in being forlorn?
Unknowable, untouchable Great One
existing, invisible, there somewhere?
And yet we complain; we can hardly bear.
Time, location seems absurd, yet coming?
Coming when? Arriving where, with eyes gone?
Here is Advent, upon us, time of reckoning
… Pausing for new life that seems beckoning.

Bundled, vulnerable in cold desert morn;
that woman’s body unwraps glory born.
El - Holy One of timelessness, synching
vast galaxies, bound in a twinkling
to Essence, Power, and Design so clear;
life once trundled and desperate - unclear
to those with stuffed hearts blinding,
with minds foiled by self concern
instead here is God once spurned
opening eyes to eternity yearned!

by Virginia  M. Kimball, 2009

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