Twelfth Night Epiphanies

by Jill Crainshaw

Star-watchers.
Eyes wide opened
by what they see
in backyard night skies,
a dream and a LED-bright star their GPS,
“Bearing gifts they traverse afar”
to investigate
explore
consider.

Then—eyes wide opened
by what they see--
re-routed,
home by another way.

Ah, the peculiarity of Christmastide epiphanies:
shepherds
cows and sheep and donkeys
an angel-touched teenager
and a dream-visited carpenter
sky-gazing Zoroastrians
on camel’s backs
tracing a celestial light-beam to a distant place.

But what of the rest of the story?
Menacing messages from powerful places
the slaughter of innocents,
mama and daddy,
baby held tight
fleeing
violence
death.
Did they know—
to keep their bodies safe
was to keep safe the Savior of the world
for a while.

In all of it—
holy visits and visions and vistas
detours and dancing stars
midnight border crossings
into unfamiliar backyards
the kindnesses of strangers
children’s cries
wailing lullabies
“Hush, little baby! Don’t say a word”
somehow?
Heralded by the morning song
of a brown-feathered barn-bird
Immanuel—God-with-us.

So galactic light-spheres align yet again.
Sacred sun arises
shines
burns away the fog of unknowing
and eyes wide-opened
by what we see,
hope leaps in daylight wombs
and we labor once more
to birth
life
love
illumination.

* * * * *

Jill Crainshaw is a professor at Wake Forest University School of Divinity in Winston-Salem, North Carolina. She enjoys exploring how words give voice to unexpected ideas, insights and visions.