By the Horse’s Stall
An Ekphrastic Poem by Rosa Lía Gilbert
Oh Mary, Oh Joseph
Sitting ‘round this newborn babe.
But not a babe, a light
piercing time, space, darkness to save
every beating heart in every century,
every atom, and every cell.
Such a holy mission, wholly accepted,
but did you say, “It is well?”
When Herod ran you out of town,
like enslaved Israelites fleeing Egypt.
When you lost him for 72-hours
and found him chastising the teachers.
In those moments of bewildered wonder
perhaps you did your very best to recall
his tiny glowing head—beam of eternal life
incarnate, born by the horse’s stall.