Poetry

Jenny Gomm  

The Manger

Straw?  Straw?
I can’t lay my head on a bed of straw.
I want duck-feathered pillows,
Designer duvets and all the comforts
My high street god provides.

Straw?  Straw!
I laid my head on a bed of straw.
I didn’t come for comfort – mine or yours.
I came as Your Saviour.

Saviour?  Saviour?
I need no Saviour.
Give me gold and silver
So I can bow in homage
To the god of consumerism.

Child, My child,
Leave your gold and silver
And see what riches I provide.
Do you see the manger?
Do you see the straw?
Do you know who’ll lie there?
My Child will, My precious Son – your Saviour. 

 

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