Raymond A. Foss Poems

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Waiting for the birth, the coming of a miracle baby
the son he never believe would come, a son to redeem
would wipe away her shame, the son to bear his name
No, not this son; he was to be named John, a son
for another purpose, dedicated to God, to be God’s
voice in the wilderness; but not right away
He would come in due time, and his father waited
the people amazed, aware that something had happened
when their priest was silent, silent for all those months
not speaking in the Temple, not in the gate, not giving
comfort, relief, as his lot would normally be
No he was a silent priest, mute, listening, writing only

He spoke when the time was ripe, appointed by the Lord
when he needed to speak, when the words needed to be shared
when the people would marvel and be in awe
for the mute spoke, after nine long months,
not in small talk, not in greeting, not in common, routine matters
No, he spoke first, in prophecy, important words of comfort
of hope, of foretelling, of saving for the people,
in fulfillment of prophets of old, and his son’s yoke
to be a prophet to the people

December 10, 2006 12:52
Luke 1:5-79

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