The Word Became Fire

The Word became fire, and now
burns within us – warming
hearts kindling the
thought that love becomes us – our
skin glistening hope.

The Word became dirt, and now
dwells below us – holding
us up, soul on soil, gracing
our grasses, grains, gardens;
all our eating now holy.

The Word became wet, and now
rains upon us, now
baptismal bath, now
living spring, now
we are sated with sacred
surging, pulsing, raging.

The Word became air, and now
fills our sails, our souls, our lungs
enlarging; this Word waits
upon us serving us breath, death
abated until the day our flesh fades into
a memory, a word, a poem.

The Word becomes us, making
us fit; it suits us, dressing us
with holy splendor, bending us
back again to our origin:
in the beginning, Word.

10 thoughts on “The Word Became Fire

  1. arlavergne says:

    Beautifully crafted. The phrase “the word becomes us” is wonderfully chosen for the senses of the verb “become”. Truly elegant. Merry Christmas!

  2. shoreacres says:

    What a wonderful way to incorporate the four elements into a poem celebrating the feast of the Incarnation. It’s just perfect, and a perfect antidote to so much that’s been overlain on our celebrations.

  3. This is a real favourite for me Allen – thank you for these lovely, powerful, words.

  4. Rob Fennell says:

    Wonderful. Happy Incarnation!

  5. arcarr2014 says:

    Many wonderful lines here–my favorite being “soul upon soil.”

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