His face
pressed against
her breast.

So this
is what he looks like.
The one the prophets spoke of.
The one the angel offered.

Her eyes catch Joseph’s gaze.
Mary whispers,
‘He looks like us!’
‘YHWH looks like us.’

His turned-up nose
now hunting for milk.
With trembling fingers
she does her best
to flick open the mouth of God.
Pulling his head in closer to her chest.
Closer to her heart.

In this way,
God receives his first meal.
In a stranger’s home.
From the body of a teenage Galilean.
Swallowing and slurping
like a hungry lamb.

The memory of every event
leading up to this moment
courses through her body.
Tears of relief
cross her olive cheeks
and fall upon her newborn.

As Joseph now
strokes her brow,
she closes her eyes,
looks up to the heavens,
and catches herself
giving thanks to God
…who now lays in her arms.


David Tensen
from “The Saving I Need. Poetry Chapel Vol. 1”

Voluntary Translations