Heavy going it was:
heavy cloaks
heavy crowns
those heavy gifts
heavy with meaning—
not your usual ones
for a baby.
They called it a fool’s errand,
fools to come so far
on the hard road—
the strain of our beasts
the bleakness of days
nights in bleak inns
cold sifting through robes
meant for sitting in lofty
towers
gazing at stars.
We had grown old with watching,
seers
and had not seen the
Promise—
almost lost in the
Jewish chronicles—
that one bright thing
on which we staked our fate.
No mere gaze, this:
our eyes heavy with
strain into the bleakness
for the one bright thing.
The strain heavy with dread we’d be—
fools.
Fools for following a Stella nova
so far.
We followed, you see,
to worship—
not that fool of a
self-loving king
quivering
with self-protective fear
on his heavy throne—
We followed
to fall on our faces
to cast our crowns
to rid ourselves of those
inadequate gifts.
It’s always this way—
the journey—
until we with trembling hands
lay down our gifts
heavy with self
and lose self’s worship.
Light, lighter, lightened we returned.
Joy replacing heaviness.
Sight conquering fear.
Some call it a fool’s errand still.
Some always will.
We were glad to be fools for his sake.
************************
Ekphrastic poem: Vivian Hyatt, 2023,
based on the painting: “Three Holy Kings,”
by Piotr Stachiewicz, 1858-1938
In many countries of Europe as well as Latin and South America, January 6th is celebrated as “Three Kings Day”