Star-Watchers, Re-Routed

Epiphany tells the story of star-watchers whose encounter with holy light leaves them changed—and sent home by another way. This poem follows that re-routing, holding together wonder and danger, revelation and displacement, as ancient borders echo in our own time. Epiphany, here, opens our eyes not only to divine presence, but to the costly work of hope born in daylight.

Home by Another Way

Star-watchers.
Eyes wide opened by what they see—

in a backyard night sky,
“they traverse afar”
to investigate. 

Then—eyes wide opened
by what they see—

re-routed, home by
another way.

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

But what of the rest of the story?

Menacing messages
from palatial halls
innocents slaughtered
by hush-hushed orders,
a mama, a daddy,
baby hugged tight
fleeing across
borderlands.

holy visits
visions
vistas detours and dancing stars
midnight border crossings
into unfamiliar backyards
kindnesses of strangers
children’s cries
wailing lullabies
“Hush, little baby! Don’t say a word”
somehow?

Heralded 
by a brown-feathered barn-bird
whose morning trill
continues the song
of distant stars.

So galactic light-spheres align
yet again.
Sacred sun arises
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
love
and hope.