Luci Shaw
One time of the year
the new-born child
is everywhere,
planted in madonnas’ arms
hay mows, stables,
in palaces or farms,
or quaintly, under snowed gables,
gothic angular or baroque plump,
naked or elaborately swathed,
encircled by Della Robbia wreaths,
garnished with whimsical
partridges and pears,
drummers and drums,
lit by oversize stars,
partnered with lambs,
peace doves, sugar plums,
bells, plastic camels in sets of three
as if these were what we needed
for eternity.
But Jesus the Man is not to be seen.
There are some who are wary, these days,
of beards and sandalled feet.
Yet if we celebrate, let it be
that He
has invaded our lives with purpose,
striding over our picturesque traditions,
our shallow sentiment,
overturning our cash registers,
wielding His peace like a sword,
rescuing us into reality,
demanding much more
than the milk and the softness
and the mother warmth
of the baby in the storefront crèche,
(only the Man would ask
all, of each of us)
reaching out
always, urgently, with strong
effective love
(only the Man would give
His life and live
again for love of us).
Oh come, let us adore Him—
Christ—the Lord.
Luci Shaw (1928-2025) was a poet and essayist, and from 1986 she served as Writer in Residence at Regent College in Vancouver. The author of over thirty-seven books of poetry and creative nonfiction, her writing appeared in numerous literary and religious journals. In 2013, she received the 10th annual Denise Levertov Award for Creative Writing from Seattle Pacific University. Her collection An Incremental Life was released in August 2025 by Paraclete Press. She was also the poetry editor for Radix for many, many years.