In the night the angel came and bade us go. Up and out of Bethlehem Down, down to Africa Where my son would be safe for now He sleeps, now, on his side, Palms pressed together and cradling the fullness of His rosy cheeks. His eyelids flutter as he dreams, then he sighs Watching him brings peace to my troubled heart. How many little ones did Herod slaughter? Oh my God. This little boy, is he aware of what he has begun? This miraculous one who emerged from my virgin womb Looks at me with eyes clear as a summer day And when he laughs I am drowned in the love Of Heaven’s son. What will come of him, This child who holds my hand in a crowd? The prophets foretold much suffering. Is it wrong that I long to pray for you to change your mind? Born to die…
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Arundelle Green 