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01/06/2004 Entry: "The Three Kings"

Through maelstroms of anxiety,
through fogs of unbelief,
through hails of fears,
through rains of hate—
three kings come from afar.

Past mountains of mistrust,
past oceans of the yearning,
past cities of the despairing,
past countries of killing—
they see his star in the East.

Into deserts where death burns,
into valleys of empty lives,
into homes where hearts ache,
into souls filled with agony—
Shine, O shine, bright morning star.

At the president’s palace they are questioned briefly,
their bags are searched. At the hotel they are told,
“Business is booming thanks to the tourists.
Yes, there was a party here,
but they looked like a bunch of terrorists. 
Check the garage.” The only clue—a blanket, stained with oil—
Tell us where to find the little one?

While paying the bills,
while rushing to the football game,
while watching the evening news,
while cleaning the car—
Where, O where is the child we seek?

In the stories of the aging,
In the kick of the unborn,
In the eyes of the homeless,
In the hearts of the broken—
The child we seek doesn’t need our gold.
                         Simeon Swinger