Sunday, December 9, 2012

No Room

The bathrobed inn-keeper’s voice
     breaks with
     age or
          “There is no room
               at this inn.”

     As they turn
     and make their way    
          he, watching them go,
               and calling says
          “You can use the stable
               if you want.”

     They want.

          And there in the
          splendor of an empty
          stable, their son is born.

History corrects –
     no inns
     no innkeeper
          They were staying
          in an ancestral home
          crowded, perhaps, by
          taxpayers, like them.

But still
     no room
     no place
          for their son
          to be born.

Except a deserted
     back cave seasonally    
     used by the animals.

Not much different
     these days.
          still crowded out
          still no room

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