Wisdom builds herself a house.
A holy place of tissue and muscle
A sacred place of blood and water
Working patiently, she weaves away
Chiseling bone, sculpting sinew.
Wisdom builds herself a house.
Enlarging, expanding, developing
Beating heart, pumping lungs
Counting out ten little fingers
Ten little toes.
Wisdom builds herself a house.
And bids us: “Come and dine!
“Eat of my bread!
“Drink of my wine!
“Be happy, be healthy, be wise!”
Wisdom builds herself a house.
In a cave in Bethlehem.
She lit it with a star
And bids those with eyes to see:
Come.
©2012 Shawna R. B. Atteberry, all rights reserved.
I love this poem, Shawna. I think it captures Christmas perfectly.
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