BORN IS A SAVIOUR
For to us a Child is born,
To us, a Son is given…
-The Book of Isaiah the Prophet
Part – 1
As the donkey trudged on
On whom a woman sat upon;
The turbaned figure to and fro went,
Seeking for inns till his vigour was spent.
A rich carpenter was he,
He had lots of money, you see.
But no room for him and his bride,
Who now felt labour was by her side.
They saw a manger near
Out of which they could hear,
Cooing and mooing and bleating.
Was God now them cheating.
For, many a month’s awhile,
She had received a message with a smile;
“Born shall be a Child,
Whose doings shall not be mild”.
This Baby was singular
He would in two millennia be popular,
For all He would speak and do
And for His holy death too.
As the virgin with birth pangs was hit
They rushed into the manger to sit.
The carpenter readied his hand
His forehead sweaty and bland.
‘It’ll be over soon dear’
Voiced the tensed carpenter.
He flashed back to the past
And got lost at last.
Said the angel to him:
“Fear not, this is not a dream;
It’s a vision on the stead
And peace until you’ve heard what I’ve said.
“Your wife still does a virgin remain
Understand now her heart’s pain
It is by the Holy Ghost she bears
The Son for whom God cares.
“Jesus His name shall be
And His marvels for the nations to see;
Take thee now the Holy Virgin.”
So saying, he vanished with a din.
Sharp pitched and long came the cry,
Jerking him into reality wry.
The carpenter and obstetrician now,
Had to aid the Saviour somehow.
First came a hand as white as snow;
His lady cried and did bellow.
The hand quick back in went,
Was this for all the end?
A small head popped out
And cleared was all doubt.
A pure pristine form into a black abyss came
To heal the sick and the lame.
The Saviour peacefully did land
Into the beaming carpenter’s steady hand.
And cried, for was He,
A man in every way one could see.
His first gulp of air He made
And cried, I presume, as He bade
Farewell to His Heavenly Father above
Who was in every way Holy and Love.
Part – 2
The cold wind blew dry
As He slept on a bed of rye.
A star was born far beyond,
And soon on the shepherds it dawned.
A mighty light did spring forth in the field
In the dead of midnight the heavens did yield:
A voice of mighty angels in flight.
The shepherds were terrified at the sight.
Angels did sing new songs
Clanging cymbals and gongs.
Through the valleys echoed the music,
Stars and angels mutually enthusiastic.
“A King unto ye is born”
Said one and blew the trump and horn.
“Fear not! Good news I bring, of joy,
Of One swathed in clothes in a manger; a boy.
Follow the star into Bethlehem
To see the King of all men.
Behold Him and be glad,
A glorious King in mortal raiment clad.
Meanwhile in a land foreign and bizarre
In the courts of the hoary and astute Czar,
Grey heads in discomfort turned;
And to know the meaning of the star they all yearned.
“What mean you, that it’s a new star?”
Marvelled the wise men of afar.
Frantically they rummaged amidst the antediluvian scrolls
But found only those which told stories of trolls.
“Eureka” beamed a voice precipitously,
“A King who shall rule piously,
Shall be born in The City of David;
For Him shall arise a new star purely avid.”
Thus began the journey of the magi
Who traversed o’er lands and deep sea.
They would search in nations many
For the marvellous, yet strange epiphany.
The shepherds by then had worshipped and left,
To their flock amidst the mountain cleft.
A new era was now dawning
On the land of pain and yearning.
The little Baby in the manger was laid
The onlookers marvelled and prayed:
‘What could this be that we witness,
Is there more to it, as if this were less?’
The lights in the palace were burned
For from far away the chancellor had returned
‘A hasty news I bear for the King.
Let me through, let me come in’
The magi of the Czar had arrived
Awaiting for a command to strive
For the star had led them only thus far
To find the new King was now their war.
‘Surely His Majesty would know’ they alleged
For what liege ruled without any knowledge
Of a new Heir to his own land?
That would be a foolish reigning hand.
Part – 3
The magi were welcomed with much gala
Into the Kingdom of Bethlehem of Romana.
Wit and culture in a constant furore
The magi for three weeks did endure.
Then bearing no more to wait
They put forth their question straight:
Had the King by any chance heard
Of a New Heir to this ailing world.
Eyebrows shot up in the court of the land
But the rumpus was settled by the rising of the King’s hand.
‘Bring to me the chief Priests and The High Priest
Let’s reason for this stated heist.
For who dares to claim Kingship
While I rule in this hamlet
Summon them quickly at once!
Before I lose my temper and on every life, death pronounce.’
The said people were hastily ushered
To the court where all murmured.
This was a strange yet proven news
For the mystery of the star was revealed to the Jews.
‘Tell us O priests of the god of this land
What say the books and scrolls in your hand?
Of the king that was to be born
And of his trump and his horn?’
The question was startling to many.
The court was in altercations and cacophony
But the high priest lifted his hands high
He recited these words albeit differently, with a sigh.
‘T ‘is true O King, of the birth of a child
Into this world at somewhere near this time.
In Bethlehem of Judea shall He be born
And forever exalted shall be His horn.’
The court and Majesty alike aghast
Stared at the priest and the magi in contrast.
They knew not how to counter the moment
For all they were worried about was the Romans.
What would Pontius say when he got wind
Of the happenings and grave tidings?
Would he raid her ramparts again?
Or unclothe her of her God’s temple chain?
A creased brow, and twitching jaws
On every face wrought an expression of draws.
Head bowed down the priests awaited
For the liege to speak while his anger abated.
‘I wish to be left alone with the magi’
Boomed his shivering voice as in a windy sky
The courtiers and patrons left at once
Each one shivering and sweating to the bones.
‘Oh ye wise men, to my words now pay heed,
Your charge to fulfil is now my need.
I bade thee well into the land of David the Great;
Find the Child who ordains worship from me and the state.
‘But leave me not in the dark left waiting
To see the new born King is my bidding.
Come back to me and show me where in the shade
This opulence of God on this earth is laid.’
Surreptitiously the wise ones from the palace departed,
To search for the One in a manger with clothes cuddled.
Their gifts they secured; of gold and myrrh ever so pure,
Frankincense in abundance that all your sorrows will it cure.
Oblivious they travelled of the liege’s disposition:
For he was shaken and rooted in misconception.
His face wrought with creases, now smirked;
As he thought of the danger that on the Baby lurked.
Death and oblivion were his fate now
As the creases smoothened on the king’s brow.
Nothing would end his rule in his acreage
And not certainly a boy of birth age.
The magi sojourned till they reached
The land of which the prophets preached;
And lo, they found the Baby, rolled
In raiment mortal, as was foretold.
Their gifts they gave in one accord
Brought from the lands across fjords.
Gold, myrrh and frankincense
They gave to the One who came in benevolence.
Scrolls they wrote and wrote them so
Of the birth of the Child whose eyes did glow.
“A great destiny awaits him perhaps;
One that we know nothing of chaps”
As the horizon grew dark and cold,
The magi rested their heads so old.
They shivered, but t’ was not the night
But was a vision that caused them the fright.
For an angel in light and gold arrayed
Said unto them words seemingly frayed:
“Go not the way you afore came,
For their lies danger in that way.”
The next day they worshipped and left
The Child, and from Him were blest.
But departed another way as commanded
By the strange fair man who had descended.
That very night the liege of the land
Was expecting to deal his card hand;
Grave and morose he sat on his bedstead
As he waited for the arrival of the prudent.
His anger flared again as it on him dawned:
The wise men from afar had his fidelity pawned.
The face coloured red and hid brow
Was twisted like the roots of the mangrove.
He snapped his fingers twice
And ordered in his vice:
“Kill! Kill them all! All those young ones;
This price shall they pay for that New Born”
A cry was heard in the street so bizarre
A wail in the city and another in its square.
Women lost their suckling and month aged,
As the sword through the land raged.
Oh the joyous hope of mankind
Would no one ever be able to find?
Was the King dead? The divine suckling;
For death surely has left the land bereaving.
But never did the wisdom in any mind trod,
That it was not for the tetrarch to play God.
The holy One was safe and sound,
And was this very moment to Egypt bound.
The Boy was safe and sure to be benign;
For what can stop a disposition divine,
That never once did man find.
For born now was the Saviour unto mankind.