I embrace it firmly, knowing
time is flesh instead of clothing.
Deep in us its seal is set,
as if fingerprints were signals
of an age's lines and wrinkles .
In our hands our time is read.
THE ADORATION OF THE MAGI
Off one of Moscow's smaller streets
that a snow-storm had covered,
we saw the cradle's tiny sheets;
like magi we leaned over.
And something gleamed, as if the child
were swathed in a faint halo;
bottles and plates of food were piled
in offering on the table.
In the half-dark we looked around
and then once more bent forward,
dreaming a cow and calf lay down
and eyed us from the corner.
-A scene like Hugo van der Goes
would draw: a beaded necklace
decks the housewife; the magi muse
while through the door light trickles.
And we were filled with such a sense
of peace, that as we shared it,
we could not fear the violence
or threats of any Herod.
The world's whole horror, from day one
to now, stood at a distance;
as if under a spell, it hung
and yielded for an instant.
