Magi from the Least

On the eve of Epiphany, I wander
Lost, looking for a sign.
Stars are obscured behind neon,
Signs hiding any sight of a baby,
Blurring any shadows from a cross.
“Drink this!” “Buy this!” “Look at me!”
Angels’ songs barely register over the sounds
Of cell phones and video games and car horns
And cash registers.
Trees, in stores since September,
Languish in the clearance corner,
Banished before Christmas Eve.
“Where is He, born King of the Jews?
I saw His star…”
Could Jesus have come again
And none of us noticed it at all?

~ by dmarvin47 on January 2, 2011.