Light of the World
An Ekphrastic Poem by Rosa Lía Gilbert
Those angels could’ve formed
another galaxy. Alone, they shone more
than a million stars. At least
that’s what the shepherds said:
that their light was blinding, frightening.
A heavy presence over their heads.
As if they were trying to bring heaven down.
The shepherds said even the sheep,
stunned, stopped their baa-ing.
That was before, before the other part
of the story. Of walking up to the manger,
of a baby wrapped in swaddling clothes,
not dressed like a savior.
Not setting the firmament on fire,
Not singing his own praises.
Not even crying, just cooing, silently waiting.
But the light, his light. They said it spread
across his minute frame, from head to toe, toe to head.
They said it was enough to keep
the whole universe going—
Alpha and Omega, beginning to end.