Maturity and Revelation

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

We all grow up but some mysteriously

The way a baby Yeti might if one

Of his two parents were a Christmas tree,

Of if his soul were stark, imprinted sun

Within him.  Buddha might recall a room

Inside his parents’ palace and that might

Impede his progress, or his mother’s womb

Might be invaded in the nine-month night

He stayed there on the silk and royal bed.

Or maybe some Mohammed might have been

Assigned to Mary’s faithful, loyal bed,

If he were born to Heaven’s Holy Queen.

  And Jesus might have longed to sleep with lambs

    Or linger with the Christmas evening rams.