Christ, Come Softly; A Christmas Poem

(acrostic poem)

Christ, come softly: the uneven way

Has been prepared. Though angels

Rampant crowd the skies, each one

In his own way praising Thee– Softly,

Softly come. Through tribulation and joy,

This night whispers hope.

(In exultation, my heart's own voice

Sings! And even the voiceless and deaf rejoice!)

But silvered silence sighs. The skies are emptied now, and

Only for now, the Logos-Child speaks not.

Remembering vows, and veils, and the cup to come, He

Now sleeps. Softly, softly: Christ.

© Latayne C. Scott