Song of Hope
Tides of the fashionably overdressed,
Slowly crowd a church in warm wools and hats,
Envious glances darting east to west,
Fluffy scarves dangle among copycats,
Await words from their shepherd theocrat.
Housing the comfortable from the cold,
Outside snow swirls like tiny acrobats,
Tumbling through an old jacket full of holes,
Covering a pregnant, fourteen-year-old.
Snow crunching underfoot to muffled sounds,
Determined to reach stained-glass glowing gold,
Singing loudens as she heads into town.
Struggling to open the heavy, church door,
An ear-piercing squeak turn all eyes around,
Every seat taken she sits on the floor,
In front of the altar – the crowd spellbound.
A priest left speechless, singing paralyzed,
Surreal awaits reality be found,
Holding her belly, she cannot disguise,
Accepting her place without looking ‘round.
God watches – wond’ring if grace will abound.
A child walks up and sits down by her side,
Smiling she’s blessed by the friend she’s now found,
Echoes of small shoes soon joyfully arrive.
Holding her hand, children gather around,
Singing “Silent Night” with the new joy they had found.
By Chris Clody