They say there was no inn
Where baby Jesus slept that night
And probably no manger
Where animals mewed and flies alit.
They say we don't know the number
Of wise men who came to pray.
And they arrived not at that time
But weeks or months away.
They say Herod (that tictorn monster)
Killed not all the first born boys
But his generals, his family, his enemies
So he might live on for future joys.
They say He was born in summertime
And not in one B.C.
I suspect if given time
They'd say his midwife - a Pharisee.
But tell me "they" of precise mind
Is a tree less wondrous
If every leaf would switch its place?
And would your soulmate be less beautiful
If the freckles migrated round her face?
That was wonderful. You made your words speak.
Eddie, you have such a sagacious and enlightening style of writing that really makes you think! We love the irony you implant, especially towards the end, leaving us to unravel the poems underlying meaning with a parable-like question. It is a pleasure to read your work!