Thursday, December 18, 2014

How Came Our Divine Intercession

Hey, everyone, felt like sharing some of my past Christmas poems to further commemorate the season. This, and one or two others most likely, can be found published in Ars Golgothica (my heretofore one-and-only!).

A little about this poem, I was moved to write it a couple Christmases ago by just how interwoven God made Himself within the story between us and Him, the story pinned with Jesus. Reading through the gospels' accounts of the Advent, I am always seeing new characteristics, new ways that God peeks through the lines of scripture and history. Between Mary's fretful fingers and Joseph's stress-stroked beard, between the animal-stink of the manger and the dust-buried prophecies no one knew were about to spill over the Bethlehem countryside...is God, signing His name on the greatest accomplishment ever known, done with the power of God, on behalf of man.

I also wanted to re-attribute the mysticism and magic that once belonged to God, and has since been stolen and spent in devotion to lesser powers. Theurgy, miracles, divine intervention... Call it what you will, but the word that saw space take shape came from God Almighty and to God Almighty it will always belong.

Photo credit: ivanmarn

How Came Our Divine Intercession

The world had lit many flames
to tame its tenebrous state,
and many more it would afford
in latter ages inchoate,
but on this night, by angel borne,
came the fire long longed for
by the murrion flocks of humanity –
the preexistent theurgy.

It came upon blear-pinioned wings
to bring the Most High’s bidding,
to reunite man and his God
and annul the former’s sinning,
and to this end, midst lustrous roar,
Gabriel brought his divine store
to the virgin frightened verily –
the star-imparted theurgy.

And unto Mary, terror-strained,
the angel translated that will,
which would through she make mankind free
by the Spirit her womb to fill.
A star-veined hand upon her core,
and there! The ransom sworn before,
in paradoxal maternity –
the God-possible theurgy.

Isaiah scribed this divine rime
in time-swept centuries,
and as Mary grew her betrothed knew
she fleshed these prophecies,
manifesting vows made more
than seven-hundred years before
by God to redeem His progeny –
the scripture-pictured theurgy.

And so the chosen vessel rose
prodigious since inception
of the foetus-bound Almighty,
while the angels rared reception;
for as the decreed stewards traveled,
painful threads a picture raveled
of that long-planned mystery –
the labor-prologued, interluded,
and concluded theurgy.

Bethlehem, where sojourned they
to stay whilst pangs demanded,
she unknown and still so swoll’n
with life that very birth commanded.
Hurried through a roughhewn door,
who’d have thought a manger floor
would show that blessed nativity? –
the humbly supposed theurgy.

Oxen and abiding cattle
prattled at His presence,
lowing their hosannas
o’er the babe-indwelling Essence
as dissimilar exultations tore
the navy veil that midnight wore
in announcing Immanuel’s entry –
the seraph-heralded theurgy.

Unto unsuspecting shepherds
Heaven lauded its applause,
while magi guided by a star
precedented Santa Claus.
Each a regal oblation bore
to magnify the newborn Lord,
omnipotent in still serenity –
the king-subjecting theurgy.

What more is there to boast in
than His neonatal hands? –
stretching and portending
Calvary’s ensanguined sands.
Beholding He whom saints adore,
who could glory in aught more
than God mending mankind’s injury? –
the quintessential theurgy.

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