…panting and giddy,
at the far reaches of pain,
the silent night sliced open again
as Mary screamed one final,
skin-ripping push, and
her first-born sloshed out
onto the wet bloodied cloths
between her weary legs.

Glistening below the halo of a lantern,
the wrinkled blue blob
lingered in that breathless place
where neither life nor death
seem interested, until a loud
bovine fart startled a scream;
the author of life soon
greedily suckling at sore, milky breasts.

Amongst the splatter
and stench of cattle dung,
God had faith and trust in humanity
to caress vulnerable love.
This, the most ordinary of miracles,
offering hope and stability in an unstable world…