Sunday, December 14, 2008


A poem for Advent

By Pavel Chichikov

October’s lighted lamps are fallen
God’s lamp of trees is empty
November’s wick pinched black and cold

Look now in the monstrance of the Virgin’s womb
Where the sinless child is burning
Even through her sinless skin

She carries forth this inner lamp
Through day and night increasingly
Unceasingly for us to see Him

It is a gift to give a Gift
Returned that makes three kings
Prepare their winter journey

Light for gold, incense for a grace
Love for adoration
Life amassed from death

So on the cold skull-strewn plateau
They see the light, the beacon
Of a cradled Child

Lost within a night they find a lamp
Glowing in a bed of straw
That will not burn it

And they who touch Him
Touch the feet of fire
That will consume itself alone

Mothers know within that which they carry—
His alone to give and take
And to the Spirit marry


Pavel Chichikov's poems found at:

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