advent

when we see you
not only in the twinkle
of a woman's eye
as she lets her grandchildren
lick the icing bowl,
but especially in
a homeless mother
looking at hope's
empty shelves;

when we hear you
not only in the carols
of the children
at evensong,
but especially
in the silent sobs
of the father who
has lost his job;

when we feel you
not just in the embrace
of loved ones
at the airport,
but especially
in the palsied,
paper-thin-skinned hands
of the lonely widow;

when we know you
not just in the assertive platitudes
of those who have never held a doubt,
but especially
in the shattered heart
of the teenager
whose faith has slipped
through her fingers:

then
we will know
you have come

just as you
promise.

(c) 2008 Thom M. Shuman