Deep within the clay, and O my people
very deep within the wholly earthen
compound of our kind arrives of one clear,
star-illumined evening a spark igniting
once again the tinder of our lately
banked noetic fire. She burns but she
is not consumed. The dew lights gently,
suffusing the pure fleece. The wall comes down.
And—do you feel the pulse?—we all become
the kindled kindred of a King whose birth
thereafter bears to all a bright nativity.
(Scott Cairns is one of my favorite poets, but I was unfamiliar with this poem until another poet I hold in high esteem featured it in his Advent series…please check out Malcolm Guite’s site for more beautiful words and images. You can also hear him reading this poem, which is a moment you don’t want to miss.)