After two weeks of thinking about it, I still don’t know how to introduce this poem, so I offer it without preamble, hoping that it will independently communicate the yearning that this season tends to stir up in my heart as I consider all the things that are not yet as I wish they were in the world…
Advent
It’s that time again—
another season of watching and waiting
above and beyond the myriad anticipations
already engaged in from day to day:
the anxious speculation
about how much month will be left
at the end of the money
the agony of wondering
whether vulnerable children
will make it home safe and whole
the fervent hoping that the roof won’t leak
until the rainy day fund has been replenished
…that the car won’t break down
on the far side of town
…that a carelessly launched bullet won’t find its way
through a shattered window
or a flimsy wall
…and that a lack of insurance won’t prove to be
the difference between living and dying.
To all these, something more is added.
These weeks of shared suspense
spur us to look past survival to Shalom—
to the longed-for reality
in which there is no want
no violent taking of life or things
no snuffing out of hope
crushing of dreams
or fanning of the flames of hatred
but where the One who once found no room
at the inn
prepares a lavish welcome
for those weary wanderers
who have waited long enough.
© 2011
Alexis Spencer-Byers
Urban Verses 